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werevulvi · 4 years ago

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Hi, could you tell me more about your autism and diagnosis and how you deal with it, how old you were diagnosed

I don't know a lot about my autism, tbh, as I never bothered to read up on it and I was never properly informed on it. But what I do know is that I learned slowly as a kid, learned to walk at age 3, was very clumsy (like medically abnormally clumsy physically, could barely run at all and couldn't climb, etc) required special treatment to learn how to eat as a toddler because I hated the sensory experience of solid food and chewing, I was incapable of understanding sarcasm, interpreted everything literally, I was stimming a lot, had monotone body language and speech, etc. I was very obviously "different" according to my parents already from around age 1 or 2, and required literally constant attention for the first 4 years of my life. Started daycare at age 4, in small groups.

Then as I started school at age 6, apparently the school nurse had told my parents that I'm probably autistic, so I consider that my "inofficial diagnosis" but they decided to ignore that and didn't tell me (until 10 years later.) I was bullied in school for being "the weird kid" by both classmates and teachers who thought I was a retard and annoying, basically, I guess. I was called a freak and weirdo a lot. But like I was proudly a weirdo, and resented normativity.

As I got up into ages 10-12 my depression and DID symptoms (alter) kinda took over and became more prominent than my autism symptoms, as I wasn't as physically clumsy anymore and started learning social cues. My mental health continued to decline over the next few years, until I sought out therapy on my own at age 16. It led me to doing my first few suicide attempts, which led me to ending up at a closed psychiatric ward.

While staying there for a few weeks, I got evaluated for autism (without knowing that's what I was tested for) as well as a few physical things, such as my hearing impairment and chronic headache. And those tests led to an official Asperger Syndrome diagnosis, when I was 16, by the very end of year 2005. I also got diagnosed with borderline psychosis and mild depression, and got pumped full of anti-depressants and anti-psychotic (neuroleptic) drugs. Then my mom finally told me that she basically always knew about my autism, and I was really pissed at her for not having told me before. I resented my autism diagnosis right from the start, and the older I got, the more I resented it. Never identified with it, only ever saw it as a huge burden.

Then throughout the rest of my teens, I went to a school for neurodivergent people (basically upper high school) but still flunked it. I was a complete and utter mess, and got little to no actual therapy. They just kept shoving me around from one psychiatric department to another, due to my comorbid issues, no one could help me, it seemed. Every once in a while I'd make another half assed suicide attempt to make them take me seriously, which only worked for a few months at a time. In total, I've made 19 suicide attemps over 12 years. Oh lord, psychiatry was so bad!

Adulthood came along and I got benefitted with sickness compensation, and got my first apartment at age 20. It didn't go great. I accidentally flooded it and had to move out, and didn't manage to keep it clean or anything while I lived there. I was barely functional and alcoholic, constantly self-harming, just to try to manage attending school. Despite getting help from caretakers offered by the state (?) weekly, I was really dysfunctional. I switched apartments several times, and kept flunking school while trying to live my miserable life, always hanging by a thread. Until I moved back to my parents at age 23. They had moved to a miserable island far away from all my friends. Got an apartment on that island close to my parents, but my issues continued being the same level of awful, up until about age 27.

What this has to do with my autism is that... uh, I basically understand it as that it impedes on my executive function really dramatically, and like although I can physically do pretty much anything, mentally I just somehow can't. Especially repeatedly, and often enough. Like I can't keep any routine for the life of me, not even simple shit like sleep cycle, eating habits, brushing my teeth, etc. Let alone school or a job, or even hobbies. Everything is infrequent and too seldom, if at all. So everything in my life keeps falling apart as I basically have no foundation to stand on, and I get sensory overload suuuuper easily. So like just going shopping/cleaning/laundry/hobbies/school/anything for half an hour can drain me significantly and make me incapable of managing doing anything else for the rest of that entire day. It's very hard for me to explain, but it's like I only ever have 3 spoons per day, but most things requitre 10+ spoons, so I go backwards on my energy resources a lot and end up having to rest for DAYS after just one hour's activity.

At age 27 I ditched the social service caretakers, as they were seriously depriving me of my privacy while being largely unhelpful, and I began to finally try to pull myself together. I still get a lot of help from my mom, with anything from paying my bills and grocery shopping, to driving me places and dealing with soul-sucking authorities for me. This takes off a lot of the burden and allows me to manage doing at least a few things on my own, like working out, cleaning (yay I manage keeping my apartment clean nowadays!), laundry, occasional shopping, art projects, online socialising, etc. I still go to therapy biweekly but it's still largely unhelpful. At least I managed to make them stop tossing me around between departments like a football though, and I'm still gonna try to get some proper trauma therapy, and maybe also look into that adhd group I was promised last year, if it'll ever resume again post-corona...

I've still never had a job in my life and still have incomplete grades. But I got permanent sickness compensation now, so that's neat. At least I don't have to worry financially. I'm also trying to get started with some "work training" stuff which is basically "pretend work" for people who can't work, just to have something to do. I'll most likely be granted acces to that. However, it seems irony is that most of those are located out in the middle of nowhere where no buses go, and I can't afford a fucking car or driver's licence because I can't work. Mom probably won't drive me several times a week for that. Fucking fantastic. Makes me almost wanna kill someone... argh! Those little things really piss me off.

Life is absolutely not going the way I want and I blame my autism for it, mostly. I am drowning in frustration, and my anger issues making me scream my lungs out in pure despair, shows that. I'm considered offically disabled due to my autism, and it just fucking sucks ass. How lonely, under-stimulated yet easily over-stimulated, bored, meaningless and unfulfilled my life is. There are far more severely autistic people out there who somehow manage to live far more functional lives, and I'm jealous of that. I dunno how to break free from this misery. It feels like the only thing I've ever managed to accomplish in life is transitioning genders, and making art that I don't wanna sell. I wanna have a "normal" job, a car and driver's licence, I wanna have cats and a social life, I want parties at night clubs again, I want hobbies outside of my home; hookups, friends and lovers; I want to be able to have a functional romantic life with someone I can marry and start a family with.

But is any of that ever gonna happen? I hope so, but it feels bleak. Because my autism feels like such a huge burden on my life, and a huge hindrence to my dreams and goals... like I'm over 30 already and still a disabled and having my mom living half my life for me, miserable mess and not given any useful therapy, I'm left to my own vices to figure out how to adult... Because of all that, I hate my autism and I wish there was a cure, I swear to fuck. So for your question, how I deal with it: not fantastically. Not sure if you wanted a relay of my entire life, but I hope that’s okay! Didn’t know how else to answer your questions.

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mosylufanfic · 4 years ago

Text

What Happened at the Party

Bwhahahahaaha. This is for the Breakup theme.

What Happened at the Party

When she saw the familiar little green car, Caitlin felt her stomach lurch. Her friend Iris, who'd driven up at the same time as her, gave her a worried glance. "You gonna be okay?"

"Fine!" Caitlin said breezily. "Fine."

"Uh . . . huh," her friend mumbled. "Look, if you just want to stay for a little while, Barry would totally understand."

"It's been a year since Cisco and I broke up," Caitlin said. "We dated for a year. You know there's that formula where you grieve the end of a relationship for half the length of time the relationship lasted?"

"I mean, that's like a guideline, really, " Iris said.

"Okay, a guideline. By that guideline, I'm well beyond the grieving period and I'll be just fine."

"If you say so."

The door opened and Barry lit up, swooping in to kiss Iris. Caitlin, well used to their grand romantic gestures, waited patiently until they came up for air. "Hi, Barry," she said.

"Hi," he said, eyes zeroing in on the dish she carried. "Oooohhhh. Pie?"

"Mmhm. Chocolate peanut butter."

"Nice," Barry said. "Okay! So! Fun fact. Cisco's here."

"It's okay," Caitlin said. "I saw his car."

"And he brought somebody."

Caitlin's stomach dropped.

"Wait," Iris said, holding up a hand. "This is Cisco. He's friendly. He's probably introduced you to half the people here today. Did he bring somebody or did he bring somebody?"

Barry looked baffled for a moment. "Whichever one means he has a new girlfriend?"

Caitlin felt her stomach go ice-cold.

"Oh shit," Iris said. "Babe, you didn't tell me he was dating someone new."

"He said it's only been a couple of weeks, so they're all kissy and huggy and snuggly -"

Iris hissed at him and turned to Caitlin. "Should we hate her? We can hate her."

"No," Caitlin said. "I'm sure she's very nice. Cisco's always had good taste in partners, mostly." She hesitated.

"This isn't a Lisa situation," Barry said promptly. "I checked. No Lisa vibe."

"See?" Caitlin said. "No Lisa vibe. What's she like?"

"Uh, her name is Kamilla, and she's like a photographer, I think? Oh, and she's vegan. That's all I got."

Caitlin mustered up a smile. "Great."

Barry cocked his head. "Great, like, you think she sounds awful and that's great? Or -"

"Look, I still care about Cisco and I want him to be happy. So great means great. I'll go out there and I'll say hello, and I'll meet her, and it'll be - "

"Great?" Iris suggested.

"Fine," Caitlin said firmly.

They looked at her doubtfully.

"I can handle this, guys, I promise. It won't be like last year. Thank you for the heads-up, Barry." She lifted her pie. "Usual place?"

"Yeah, you know where it is," he said, waving her through.

He turned to Iris. "You think this is going to be okay?"

"Hard to say," she said. "And by the way, honey, we need to work on your definition of fun fact."

Caitlin dropped off her pie at the dessert table and circulated through the party, smiling and greeting people she knew. She chatted with someone about their new dog, another person about their job, a third person about the weather.

The whole time, some internal radar was zeroed in on the man across the backyard. Who he was talking to. How he laughed. The bright smile on his face.

How his arm had never left its spot around the waist of the cute girl cuddled up to his side.

As far as she could tell, he didn't even know she was here.

Which was fine by her.

"Hmmm?" she said, vaguely aware that someone had asked her a question.

"I said I'm surprised you came," Sara repeated. "After what happened last year."

"Nice," said her girlfriend.

"What? I'm just saying. It was kind of a blowout."

Caitlin grimaced. "I know. Cisco and I had been on the rocks for a few weeks but that was - " She shook her head. "We should have saved that fight for home." She gripped her elbows and raised her chin. "But we agreed, after we broke up, that we wouldn't put Iris or Barry in the middle of things and we could be cordial to each other, which is what we're doing."

"Okayyyyy," Sara mumbled and took a drink.

It wasn't as if their breakup was the only thing that had ever happened at Barry's annual birthday bash, Caitlin thought, making her excuses and going off to say hi to someone else. She and Cisco had also met here, five years ago. The click had been immediate, almost audible. They'd made plans to hang out within minutes of meeting, had been fast friends by the end of the week.

And two years ago, they'd kissed for the first time - there, around the side of the house where it was quiet and green and smelled like roses.

But Sara was right. Last year, it had all fallen apart.

Sometimes Caitlin tried to track where or how their relationship had collapsed. After all, they'd been good friends for three years before they started dating. But what had been so good at the start had turned bad so gradually that before she knew it they were fighting more than they were talking and the thought of him made her stomach knot instead of bringing a smile to her face.

Then she'd said those terrible words, under that tree right there, where she'd dragged him so they wouldn't be fighting in the middle of the party: "You know what, maybe I don't even want to be with you anymore."

And he'd said the equally terrible words: "Maybe I don't either."

Then it had been all icy silences and stiff texts letting him know that his stuff was on her porch and he could leave hers in its place. Such an awful end to something that had been the best part of her life for so long. Sometimes she thought she missed the friendship as much as she missed the romantic relationship.

The smell of the grill tempted her in its direction, and she was almost there when she realized with a lurch of horror that Cisco and his new girlfriend - what was her name? Kamilla, that was it - were already walking up.

She thought about running in the other direction.

But this would have to happen sometime, and she was hungry, and it was best to get it over with now instead of later. Especially since later, it might be just them, and she didn't know if she could grit her teeth and act cordial without other people around them. At least it was just Barry, who was running the barbecue grill, and if she slipped up he wouldn't blame her.

"Hey, Barry," Kamilla said. "Can you put on a veggie dog for me?"

Cisco hugged her closer. "Go ahead and put one on for me too."

She turned a beaming face toward him. "Babe! You don't have to."

"Yeah, babe, but I wanna kiss you later and you don't like the taste of meat."

She giggled. "Baaaabe."

"Hey, Caitlin," Barry said rather loudly. "Your usual?"

"Yes, thank you," she said, pretending not to notice that Cisco had jerked like someone had tasered him. "Oh, Cisco, hi. I was wondering if I'd see you here today."

Barry coughed, although that could have been some smoke getting blown in his face, and tossed a turkey patty next to the two veggie dogs.

"Hey, Caitlin," Cisco said. Was it her imagination, or did he grip Kamilla's waist a little tighter? "When did you get here?"

"A little while ago," Caitlin said. She smiled at Kamilla. "Hi, I'm Caitlin."

"Kamilla," Cisco's new girlfriend said, smiling back. "So how do you know each other?"

Cisco jumped in. "She’s - ah - she's an old - we dated for about a year."

Clearly, this was new information to Kamilla, from the way the smile on her face went rigid for a split second. But Caitlin had to give her props for recovery. "Hi, Caitlin," she said. "Nice to meet you. So when was this? In high school?"

"Nope," she said. "We broke it off - what, Cisco, about a year ago now?" She was proud of herself for the breeziness in her tone.

"Mmm, yeah, about that," he said, as if he hadn't stormed out of this exact party and she hadn't gone inside to cry in the bathroom for an hour.

"Oh," Kamilla said, sounding only a little bit strangled.

Had he seriously not warned her that Caitlin was going to be here? Or maybe he hadn't given it, or her, a single thought since they broke up. Caitlin considered glaring at him, but thought it might get misinterpreted.

"Well!" Kamilla said. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too! How did you meet?"

"Oh, he came into the bar where I work," Kamilla said, beaming at Cisco. "I thought he was going to spend the whole night hitting on college girls but he spent it talking to me."

"So you're a bartender?"

"Day job," Kamilla said. "I'm actually a photographer."

"You should see her work," Cisco said. "It's really artistic."

"That's so interesting! Do you sell any?"

"Just a few prints online, a little stock photography, you know. But I'm hoping to get a show someday. What do you do?"

"Oh, I'm a research scientist," Caitlin said.

"Oh," Kamilla said rather faintly. Was she bored or intimidated? Caitlin had gotten both. "Neat! Researching what?"

"My focus right now is on gene therapies that can hopefully stall or reverse the progress of multiple sclerosis."

Cisco's eyes lit. "Seriously? That's great, I know you wanted to get into that area."

Warmth spilled through her chest, and she smiled at him. He'd always been like this, even at the end. "Yes, I was really happy to get assigned to that project."

"How is your dad doing these days?"

"He's using his cane a lot more lately, but he's also on a new medication that's really helping with his fatigue." She glanced at Kamilla and explained, "My dad has MS."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kamilla said in that particular hushed, funereal way people had when they'd never had to think about chronic illness even once.

Caitlin kept her smile pasted on. "It’s okay. He's had it all my life. It's just something we've always lived with, as a family."

She thought about asking after Cisco's parents, but at that moment, Barry chirped, "Veggie dogs up!"

He held out two plates to Cisco and Kamilla, their dogs bunned up and ready to go. "Caitlin, it's going to be a few more minutes for yours."

"Oh, sure," Caitlin said. "That's fine."

"Let's go hit the potluck table, babe," Cisco said.

"Oh yes!” Kamilla cried, with outsize enthusiasm given that she probably couldn’t eat ninety percent of the offerings. “Caitlin, it was nice to meet you."

"You too!" Caitlin said, and turned toward Barry. "So how is life at CCPD these days?"

He chatted with her about his job for a moment or two, then said in a low voice, "So that was okay."

"Sure," she said.

He looked sympathetic. "You want cheese?"

"No, I'm all right." She picked up a plate and held it out for her turkey burger, thinking well, that's over.

She sat on the steps of the deck, next to somebody she'd known in her grad program. They chatted about minor scandals in the science world and she ate her turkey burger in slow, careful bites, not tasting a single one.

She wandered by the potluck table, stood staring at the side salads and chips and veggie trays that people had brought. She took a carrot stick and laid it on her plate. It looked small and withered and alone.

So unbelievably alone.

She added a celery stick. That didn’t seem to help. She tipped them both into the trash and decided it was time for dessert.

The dessert table was in the kitchen, so she went inside, air-conditioned air washing around her. She wanted sugar, badly. Chocolate, cookies, popsicles, whatever people had brought that would rot her teeth and block the tears.

She checked on her pie and was gratified to see that her little sign saying "Contains peanuts!" was still there, and that one quarter of the pie was already gone. She had made two pies, leaving one at home in the fridge because she'd known how this would go, so she skipped over it and checked out what else was on offer.

Chocolate chip cookies. Individual ice cream cups in a cooler. Mini eclairs in their Costco box, still frozen in the center. A shining chocolate cake in a plastic carrying case. Yes, yes, all of it.

"Hey."

She looked over, then away, quickly. "Hi," she said a little overbrightly, to the parfait she was scooping onto her plate. Shit. He knew she ate sugar when she was upset. But she also liked desserts in general. Maybe she would get away with this.

He was alone. Where was Kamilla? Bathroom, maybe?

Act natural.

He said, "I, uh - "

"Which one did you bring?" He'd always liked cooking, trying out new things. Sometimes that had been a cause of friction, like when he used every pot in the kitchen and it turned out terrible and they'd wound up going to the drive-thru at nine o'clock at night.

"There," he said, pointing at a box with a clear plastic lid.

"Donuts!" she said.

"Mmhm. Kamilla and I made them together."

"Oh," she said.

They'd attempted to cook together a few times but since cooking was how she relaxed and disconnected, it hadn't gone well.

She opened the box. "Well, I've never had vegan donuts but I'm sure they'll be interesting."

His hand reached past hers and gently closed the box. For a moment, she thought, you don't even want me touching something you made with her? Then he said, "They're not great. Trust me."

“They can’t be that bad."

He shook his head, very solemn. "Vegan donuts are donuts of sadness," he said. "I have learned this."

"I'm sure there are some vegan donuts that are good."

"Proooooobably," he allowed. "But these are not it." He grinned at her, and instinctively, she smiled back.

"Okay," she said, leaving the box closed.

He chose a mini-eclair for himself and bit it in half. “So are you here with someone?”

She meant to say a simple no, but it came out as, “Oh, he was busy today.”

“Oh? He? Someone I know?"

She swallowed, panic bubbling up. “No, you wouldn't know him. I work with him.”

“Another Star Labs workaholic?”

That shouldn't have stung as hard as it did, but it brought back a nasty echo of their hissed fight over by the barbecue grill last summer, as he'd accused her of never having time for him. Her voice went chilly as she said, "He doesn't work at Star Labs and neither do I anymore. I took a job with Mercury."

"You? You left Star Labs? The most prestigious, well-paid research lab in the Midwest?" he asked, echoing what she’d always recited as reasoning for sticking with her job.

"I decided to value my mental health more than money and prestige. Mercury is much more supportive of their employees' work/life balance."

He blinked. “Wow, that’s - that’s great.”

She picked up a spoon and started scooping something out of a random bowl onto her plate. "So how are you? How are your parents?"

"I'm good," he said. "My parents are . . . they were good, the last I saw them."

She glanced at him quickly. Ever since she'd known him, he'd been at his parents' beck and call, running every time they texted. During that last terrible argument, she'd snapped back that he might see her more if he wasn't constantly canceling dates because his parents needed him. "Did they move?"

"No, I just, ah, I went low-contact with them. Haven't really talked to them in about - " He considered. "About a month now."

"Oh," she said, looking back at her plate. She'd gotten Chester's dreadful candy bar salad with the pineapple. Ugh. Gross. "Any - um - any particular reason?"

If he’d broken off contact with his parents because of Kamilla, after all the times his mother had been rude to Caitlin, calling her things in Spanish she wasn’t supposed to understand . . .

He laughed, but it held no mirth. "They stood me up for my birthday dinner because Dante needed help buying a car." He shrugged. "I kind of figured out that I was never going to be their favorite or their priority. No matter what I did."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well . . ." he mumbled.

"It's their loss," she said. "Is it better for you?"

"Hurts like hell," he said. "But yeah. It's better."

"You seem happy," she said. "I mean, in general."

"I am."

"Good. I'm glad." She realized she was still holding shoulder, and removed it so she could portion herself some of Iris's ambrosia. "Kamilla's nice," she said brightly.

"She is! Yeah. She is."

"How long has it been?"

"Oh, like a month now? It's really good. I can see this going the distance, you know?"

She felt like she'd swallowed razor blades. "That's great."

He smiled at her. "Hey, you know what, we should double-date."

"We should what?"

"Yeah, me and Kamilla, you and your guy. We should grab dinner together or something."

"Oh. Well, actually - " He lives in London. He has a moral objection to eating out. He's in training to go to the moon. He - "We really aren't like that."

"Like what?"

"Dating. It's just . . . casual." She smiled. "You know? No strings attached kind of thing. When we've both got some free time and need to blow off steam."

He blinked a few times. "You? You have a fuck buddy."

She hated that term. It made her skin crawl. Cisco knew that perfectly well, so she just shrugged. "I guess you could call it that." She ate a grape out of the ambrosia, licking it clean of whipped cream and biting it in half. "Sorry, I don't think a nice foursome dinner is in our future. But it was nice seeing you."

She strolled off, hoping like crazy that Cisco didn't mention this fictitious casual sex partner of hers to anybody else.

She made herself do one more circuit of the backyard. She had no idea who she saw or what she said. She was focused on not looking like she was about to run away.

Even though she was.

Iris found her dumping her plate into the kitchen trash. "Heard the first face-to-face went down," she said. "You okay?"

"I came, I saw him, we were cordial. I survived," Caitlin said. "And if I go home and dive face-first into a pint of Cherry Garcia and a bottle of wine, that's nobody's business but my own."

Iris put her arm around Caitlin's shoulder and hugged her gently. "That whole grieving process guideline?"

"Whoever made that up is full of shit."

Some hours later, Barry dropped into the lawn chair next to Cisco. "Hey, man. You awake?"

"Yup," Cisco said, head tipped back, eyes closed. He swung his beer bottle lightly between his fingers. "Almost outta beer though."

Barry considered it. "How many of those have you had?"

Cisco tipped it up and drained it. "Almost enough."

"You okay to drive?"

"Mmmmmm. Might hafta crash on your couch. 'Zat okay?"

"You know it is." Barry nudged him. "You don't even have to use the couch. You and Kamilla can use the guest room."

"Mmmmm." Cisco dropped the bottle to the grass. "Sh'left."

"She what? She left?"

"Called an Uber. Kinda mad at me."

"Why?"

"Says I didn't give her a heads-up Caitlin was gonna be here. Or that we dated. Like, c'mon, we've only been together a week and a half. People have exes. It's a thing."

"Still, she might've appreciated the heads-up."

Cisco sighed. "Yeah, I guess, I just . . . I didn't wanna talk to her about Caitlin. It's like, sore. Who wants to talk about their last ex?"

"A lot of people," Barry said. "Especially when she's going to be at the same party, which you knew, cuz I told you."

Cisco sighed again, more heavily. "Okay, yeah, maybe you've got a point. I'll call her tomorrow and apologize. Plus she has nothing to be afraid of. Caitlin doesn't want me back." He swung his bottle again. "So wait, you know who this guy is?"

"What guy?"

"The guy she's dating now."

Barry cocked his head. "Kamilla?"

"Nnnnoooooooooo," Cisco drawled. "Kamilla's dating me. Caitlin's dating . . . some dude. Actually not dating. She's all like, 'ha-ha, we're not like that.' They're friends with benefits or something."

This was the first Barry had heard of it. He opened his mouth to say so when Cisco plowed on with the tenacity of the sloppy drunk.

"Which, what the hell, man? I suggested friends with benefits years ago and she was like no, I don't do that, it doesn't work for me, I need to be in a relationship. Took me another six months to man the fuck up and ask her out for realsies. Who's this guy that's getting her to settle for less than what she wants?" He wagged his finger in the air. "You! You should find out who he is, Bare. You should find out who he is and kick his ass."

Barry smiled at nothing. "You could kick his ass. I mean, you're the one who seems to think it should be done."

"C'mon, I can't do that, then everyone would say I was just jealous. M'not jealous. Just, she deserves better than, than, you know, some dude who just wants to get laid. Just like a friendly ass-kicking. C'mon."

"Okay, maybe."

"I'm not jealous. I'm with Kamilla."

"Mmmmhmm," Barry said, eating some pie. "I can tell. You're totally over Caitlin."

"Totally," Cisco said, and lifted his head, looking around blearily. "Hey, where'd m'beer go?"

FINIS

#Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow #killervibe #fanfiction #killervibeweek20 #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #breakup AU #bwahahahahahaha #the flash

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syms-things-5 · 4 years ago

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter 10

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language

Summary: Back on set, Chris struggles to take his mind of things...

Chapter Ten

It had rained non-stop since Chris arrived back in Georgia which was rather befitting for his mood. The unexpected thunder and lightning had delayed some planned outdoor shots from that morning, with weather reports suggesting more was to come over the weekend. Chris was starting to wonder if he’d ever see Boston again.

“I could come and visit if you want? Keep you company?” Scott offered, downing the last of his glass containing whatever he managed to find in Chris’ liquor cabinet. He would have grabbed the next flight to Atlanta if Chris had asked him to. It was just the habit of him now to offer to do so wherever he was filming in the world.

“Nah, it’s OK. I told my Agent to tell them I had a family thing coming up so they know I can’t stay here for long.”

They had been on a video call for the past couple of hours, though not constantly talking. Scott had taken another call from a friend and Chris had been treated to a star-struck pizza delivery guy on his doorstop, but this was a nice comfort for them both. Chris was lounging around his cosy apartment in sweats and toyed with the idea of visiting the building’s gym to relieve come tension; tension that had built up in him since he inadvertently found himself face to face to Jenny 24 hours previous. Among the small production crowd that had gathered on location yesterday evening, they’d exchange brief pleasantries with him successfully dodging a hug she had initiated. Matt kept a keen eye on the media and thankfully nothing of note was registering online other than typical minor fan gossip but he could live with that. He resolved to keep his head down, get the shots in the can, and get out of there as fast as he could.

“Do you think we should look at getting that place booked again?” Scott asked, absent-mindedly scrolling through something on his phone.

“Huh? What place?”

“That cabin we stayed at in Vermont last year. That one looking over the lake? I literally just mentioned it to you. Have you not been listening to me? Mom wants to go again for her birthday.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. Yeh, sure. I think I have the email of the owner somewhere. I’ll dig it out and we can take a look. Why that place?”

“It was nice and she liked having that separate guest house for Carly and the kids. It had that huge veranda with the barbecue pit. Wasn’t that where Shan thought she saw a snake?” Scott laugh at the sudden memory that had come rushing back to his mind, and Chris nearly spat out his drink.

“Oh yeh, now I remember. She freaked and wouldn’t come outside again!” he was laughing louder now and fell back on to his couch. “Jeez. We definitely have to go back now if only for that. She’ll have it.”

“We should probably not say that to Mom, though. Maybe stick to the script on this one.” Scott laughed again. “So, you coping OK?”

Chris shrugged indifferently as if he didn’t know what Scott was hinting at. It was uncomfortably humid and he was fighting off a carb come from his pizza; he really didn’t want to to get into anything too deep at this point in the day.

“Come on, don’t give me that. You’ve been a bag of anxiety for the past few weeks. I take it she’s texting you still?”

“Not really, just the usual stuff. I can handle it.”

“Just make sure you’re careful while you’re there, alright? That divorce looks nasty and you don’t wanna get wrapped up in it any more than you already are. Don’t give her any more rope to tie you with.”

“Have you been talking to Matt about me?!” Chris asked, suddenly feeling affronted. “Cos I know what I’m doing, OK? I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Only in passing. we buy the same gym clothes. And I’m not saying you’re an idiot. You just have a habit lately of thinking with something else outside of your brain.” Scott pushed back. He was leaning into his iPad a little more as if to ensure his words were getting through to Chris, now sitting a thousand miles away.

“Not all of my decisions are bad ones.” Chris shook his head in objection and he may well have believed it had he not also been keenly aware that, deep down, he’d been feeling like he was veering away from the straight and narrow of late and if Scott was picking up on it, then it was definitely a cause for concern. But there was a time and a place to assess his life choices and this was not it.

“You’ve been really, really distracted lately. Mom’s noticed it as well. Is it just this film or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine! I’ve got, what, four more days here and then I’m back home for the rest of the year. You can life coach me then. Honestly, I’m good. You don’t need to worry.”

Scott returned the frown and continued scrolling through his phone. Things were a bit messed up these days, Chris couldn’t exactly deny it. He didn’t know whether he was coming or going, with filming, his career, and wanting to leave LA. behind on a more permanent basis. He wasn’t getting any younger. Work aside, Jenny hadn’t particularly factored into his thoughts as much as his brother and others had assumed she had but he couldn’t very well admit to that given the alternative. In some ways, what had been happening with Sarah had very much been an indicator of what was missing from his life and what he desperately wanted to focus on. As much as they have both promised they would keep things civil and normal, there was something of a distance growing between them now, an ability to talk openly and honestly. If it hadn’t been for him lazing around their apartment the last few days before he flew out of town, he probably wouldn’t have talked to her or even seen her again. She hadn’t responded to a group WhatsApp joke he sent the other day, and she hadn’t responded again after he forwarded a cute picture of a labrador wearing medical scrubs. If there was one thing that always guaranteed you a response, it was dogs dressed as humans. He tried to put her in the back of his mind and focus on getting the film finished.

“We should put you and Sarah in a room together. Might get you both back to normal.” Scott may have intended his comment to be offhanded as he looked down at his phone again but Chris found himself keen to explore what he meant.

“What’s going on? Has she said something?”

“I was hoping you;’d know more to be honest. You practically live with them now.” Scott insinuated. “Mom says she’s been working loads and when she’s not working, she’s sleeping. That stuff with Charlotte’s really messed her up, I guess.”

He felt guilty hearing this. He hovered over her name and contemplated sending her a casual text but what could he say that didn’t sound as fraught as he was feeling? He could be funny and check Shanna hadn’t killed her. Maybe he could fake some emergency? OK, now you’re just being ridiculous, Chris thought to himself. And desperate. But sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures...

Chris 18.02pm: This feels weird

He chucked his phone to his side hoping he would stop thinking about it if he paid it no attention. He got up to get another beer from his fridge and spied the pre-made protein shakes that had been waiting for him upon his arrival. He knew he should be in the gym. He knew he shouldn’t have eaten a full pizza when he was supposed to be maintaining his training plan so he would feasibly look the same as before production wrapped the first time. As he rubbed his hand over his softer stomach he found it increasingly hard to care. He could figure that out another time.

As he stared into the abyss, he heard his phone vibrate on his couch. Against his better judgement he could feel a fluttering start in his stomach and he prayed to whomever was listening that he could just, for once, catch a fucking break.

Sarah 18.14pm: I know. I’m sorry. There’s a lot going on right now

He could picture her typing and deleting messages over and over again like she always did, chronically unsure of herself, and figured he should probably give her a break also.

Chris 18.17pm: I understand. Just miss talking to you. Scott’s not as friendly and he doesn’t laugh at my jokes

Sarah 18.18pm: :)

OK, an emoji. That’s a good start, he would take that.

Chris 18.21pm: how’s work?

Sarah 18.24pm: Busy but good. Today I removed a dice from a kids nose

Chris burst out laughing, leaning back onto his couch. They enjoyed listening to Sarah recount her days and the fairly bizarre stuff she ended up being witness to. He enjoyed himself even more watching his mother recoil in horror and fleeing the room when she was being particularly graphic.

“Woah! What is it? What’s going on?” Scott shouted through the screen, first in shock and then confusion. He’d forgotten Scott was even there. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh it’s...nothing. Shouldn’t you be heading to dinner?”

“Oh fuck, yeh. Don’t wanna give him another reason to be pissed off with me. I’ll catch you later, yeh?”

“Don’t worry about it. If I don’t hear from you again, I’ll assume you lovebirds have kissed and made up.”

Scott huffed. “Fat chance.”

A quick click and he was gone leaving Chris smiling at his phone like an idiot. He wondered if she could tell her was happy to finally hear from her, that they were joking, that a smiling emoji had been enough to lift the funk he was currently in.

Chris 18.33pm: I’m so jealous of you right now...

Sarah 18.36pm: Ha! Georgia can’t be that bad

Chris 18.37pm: I’d much rather be there

That wasn’t even half the story.

Four Days Earlier

He shouldn’t have been looking at her curled up on the couch. He shouldn’t have been focussing on the subtle way her throat moved when she swallowed a spoonful of mint choc chip from the bowl placed precariously in her lap, or the way her eyes crinkled when she chuckled at something funny in the film. Or her toes curling and then uncurling from inside her stripy red socks. What even were they watching again? Oh, The Other Guys. Shanna had chosen it and he’d been stuck ever since he’d arrived at theirs, beer in hand, hopeful for some last-minute fun before he had to return to Savannah.

Sarah leaned down the side of the couch to grab her bottle from off the floor and he blinked away as she took a long drink. He excused himself and got up from the couch. The kitchen windows were wide open and he breathed the fresh air in. This was getting ridiculous. His sister was a mere three feet away from him for fuck’s sake.

“What’s up with you?” Shan asked. She had followed him in without him realising, grabbing some more ice cream from their freezer. “If you’re bored, go out. I’m sure there’s people who’d love to entertain you for the night.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh fuck off, I’m not bored. I’m just stretching my legs is all. It’s not against the law, is it?” he practically spat back at her. He regretted it when he saw her stunned expression. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know what has gotten into you lately but can you please sort it out before you’re back? I really don’t need Mom bothering me every hour asking me what you’re up to while you’re here. It’s getting ridiculous.” She turned and left the kitchen, the full tub in hand, unwilling to allow the mood he was clearly in to mess up her evening of doing nothing.

Maybe it was a bad idea to come here tonight. Shanna was probably right. He should have tried distracting himself with something, or someone, else only now he didn’t much feel like going out. He wasn’t dressed right, his phone only had 5% battery, and he was bored of the local bars which surprised even himself.

“Are you OK?” Sarah asked quietly, unsure of whether he’d heard her at first until he looked up from where he was sat at the table. She placed her bowl on the side of the sink and he allowed himself a brief moment of respite in thinking he decided so come just so she could check up on him.

“Yeh. Sorry for disturbing your evening.” He gave her his best sheepish smile.

Sarah brushed him off, “Don’t worry about it but if you want any ice cream, you should get some fast before Shan finished it off.”

“I think she might stab me with her spoon if I tried that.” He wasn’t kidding.

“I keep forgetting to mention this to you but I still have that dress, um, if you need to give it back to Matt or someone? Shan said she was going to keep hers but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.”

She was nervously playing with her hands and for a split second, he saw her with softly curly hair and the jewellery she wore with it on the night. That night. That night that had fucked him up in more ways than one. He could pinpoint his recent mood shift back to that night at the party, dealing with his drunken friends and the photographs that kept cropping up on the internet even now, so long afterwards, with people carefully dissecting every inch of his place that was on show, trying to work out if he was with someone. It wasn’t Jenny or the thought of being back on that set that was concerning to him but rather that the only time he’d felt happy and alive in recent weeks was when he was existing in the same room as his sister’s best friend. Sarah was somewhat calming to him. She had shit to deal with and so did he but he didn’t have to hide it in the same way he did with his family. And now, as she stood in front of him in her two-sizes-too-big hoodie and sweatpants, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her and let her hold him for a minute.

“You should keep it.” He nodded gently at her after what was undoubtedly too long a pause. “It looks good on you.”

“Oooh you should wear it on your date with Greg!” Shanna announced, making her presence known as she reached up for the chocolate sauce from the top of the fridge.

“It’s not a date!” Sarah denied as quickly as Shanna had opened her mouth. If Chris had been trying to hide the flash of unease that just moved across his face, he’d failed entirely. She turned back to the Chris. “It’s just a work thing.”

Shanna’s eyebrows looked like they were about to leave her forehead in surprise. “It is definitely a date and if you wear that dress, he’ll be all over you.”

Present day...

Shanna had a knack for creating awkward moments. If Chris had focussed hard enough, he could have grabbed the sauce bottle out of her hand and thrown it at the back of her head with unnerving accuracy. Except it wouldn’t have made him feel any better from the needling feeling he was getting in his stomach, it wouldn’t have served any purpose whatsoever. It certainly wouldn’t have stopped Sarah from practically blanking him for the rest of the evening.

He knew it wasn’t a date no matter how hard Shanna had been insinuating it was. According to Lisa, the UAPD was throwing a networking event of sorts to introduce doctors in the North East to medical Reps and unionists from across the country. The website he’d looked at made it seem akin to some kind of political rally that he used to attend alongside his Uncle, filled with men and women in smart but unremarkable suits holding clipboards and throwing their contact details around like candy. It appeared, by many accounts, to be a relatively full affair. He was surprised she had agreed to go. He’d never much figured her for a “company-man”.

Chris 19.35pm: Enjoy your night. Don’t speak to any strange men.

She was probably being bored to death by one as he spoke. He hoped she’d see his message and smile and be relieved that she had the option of someone else to entertain her during the long speeches if she had wanted but after a few hours of nothing he gave up hoping and resigned himself to a long night’s rest. This was probably for the best. He was tired and had a long day ahead of him if they had any chance of catching up on the missed scenes from today, and he’d be damned if he was staying here beyond Monday night.

He enjoyed a long, long shower and brushed his teeth before climbing into bed with his iPad to read over the new sides for tomorrow’s shoot in the park.

Sarah 11.38pm: Nope starange men. Just me lol

Chris 11.44pm: Wow....are you drunk??!!

Bless her. He could imagine her and Audrey giving up the speeches and making the most of the free bar. He’ll have to make sure to invite Audrey to his next gathering.

Sarah 11.48pm: On a school night. Sssssshhhhh

Chris 11.49pm: Shame behaviour, Ms Bernette

Sarah 11.54pm: As if your’e not doing the same

Chris 11.56pm: I’ll have you know I am tucked up in bed like a good boy

Sarah 11.58pm: Thats disappppointing Christopher

He couldn’t explain the thrill he got from her using his full name. He couldn’t recall her ever using it in the years she’s known him.

Chris 12.03am: I’ll have to make up for it when I’m home ;)

Sarah 12.08am: Can’t wait to seee that. I like drunk Christopher

Drunk Christopher was a fucking idiot, he thought, and she was one of a few people who knew that better than anyone. Drunk Christopher was someone who made risky decisions and initiated impromptu dance competitions against people who would wipe the floor with him. He was someone who pulled out his cap shield without anyone having to ask, and enjoyed drinks he could set fire to. What was his excuse for being an idiot here and now? He certainly wasn’t drunk, not even remotely so, but he’d be lying if he didn’t feel slightly light-headed at the thought of Sarah wanting his attention.

Chris 12.12am: Are you wearing the dress?

Three dots quickly appeared then disappeared. A few minutes passed and he saw them again, transfixed by what might have been going through her mind, what was she wanting to say to him then thinking better of?

Sarah 12.21am: Not anymore

Fuck. He knew what he wanted to say back; he’d been at this rodeo many times before. He’d even typed out and stared at his screen before deciding against sending it. She was drunk and clearly not thinking straight, and he didn’t want her to see messages she would come to regret in the morning and push her further away from him. It wasn’t right of him to corner her, not like this. If this was something they were going to explore, they’d need to be face to face and not three sheets to the wind.

It was going to be a long week.

#chris evans #chris fic #evans fic #chris evans x original female character #clear the area #fan fiction #sarah bernette

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natashacoxwritings · 4 years ago

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Stressed, Depressed, and I Quite Honestly Can’t Remember the Last Time I Got Dressed.

I don't think I've ever been this stressed in my life.

I knew third year was going to be hard, but not this hard.

Let's start with the obvious; my dissertation. I knew going into university that third year would be the most time-consuming due to my ECP. But I hadn't fully considered the fact I'd have to stay on top of all my other work AND contemplate my future at the same time. And I have a reeeeaaaaal tendency to procrastinate so you can imagine how it's going. So far all I've got is a plan. I'm gonna have to kick myself into gear over Christmas and stop getting distracted. I also really need to get past my habit of feeling guilty when I do productive things that aren't work, so instead I do nothing at all (you should really see my lists of things I need to do.) Last year I reread the Harry Potter books and it gave me the motivation to do my work and do it well, so what I need to do, is find a new motivation to propel me into starting work earlier.

Next up in line of my list of struggles, is a module I chose to do. I'm not gonna name names, but what I will say, is that I'm extremely lost on the concepts behind this style of module and that I hope my grades come out well because I truly am trying. But this type of writing certainly isn't for me, that's for sure.

Now, let's add in the pandemic to all of this. I think everybody is stressed over the pandemic, and luckily I have my student loan to fall back on, but these are different times we're living in and it's brought a whole load of issues with it.

When it comes to my life outside of writing, Covid obviously meant I couldn't visit my grandparents, and I never got around to Skyping them. I kept making a note to attempt it, since they're not tech savvy, but it just never happened. And that's on me. My household was finally going to go visit them, and then the weekend before, my grandad died. I didn't see him or even talk to him for weeks, and a couple of days before I would get to... he'd gone. I never got to say goodbye and I never will. And sometimes I think I've come to terms with that, and then I realise the reality of it and I'm not okay. I just wish I'd spoken to him once before. But that's the thing about death; it's not planned. We could never know when the last time we'd see him would be.

The pandemic has also brought pressure to university life. Online classes have their pros and cons. The pros being I can study wherever I am and that I can catch up to classes later if I miss them. But the main con is I find it much easier to keep up with the work load when I have a set schedule to attend; pre-recorded lectures aren't like this. The pandemic also means libraries aren't open, and with it being the year of my dissertation, it would have been helpful for me to go sit in the library for hours at a time and crack on with my work without needing to check the books out. Let’s not forget the fact it’s hard to get motivated in these miserable times; getting out of bed can be a struggle some days, let alone using my brain - but it’s important to try!

Lastly, when it comes to Coronavirus, I'm stressed about finding work. Most people who had jobs before the virus hit, have some form of insurance to keep that job and some income. But graduates who will be searching for a job don't have that, and are basically stuck in a state of unemployment - especially if they are at risk and need to stay isolated. So of course I'm worried about money.

Speaking of money, the holiday season is nearly upon us, and as unbelievably excited as I am, the festivities are always stressful. It's going to be weird this year without Grandad being with us, and I'm not sure how I'll cope seeing my Nan cry on Christmas day. I've gone all out with the presents this year just to try and keep everyone's spirits up, even though material objects cannot replace his presence. As well as this, my mum's health has been bad this whole year, and she’s been unable to work but hasn't been getting disability support yet either, so not only will she struggle to buy gifts (which honestly aren't important anyway, don’t get me wrong) but she'll also struggle to cook, to play games, and to enjoy herself since she's religiously taking prescribed painkillers and getting up every other hour of the night due to pain. I just want her to have a good Christmas after such an awful year, and I know I can't do anything about it. Just imagine losing your father, suffering from chronic pain, and being in a pandemic all at once. And if you really are experiencing that for yourself right now, I'm so sorry.

The last, and one of the biggest contributors to both my stress and poor mental health, is the fact I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I chose to do a degree because I didn't want a job yet and was told I was good at writing, so I pursued it. I enjoy writing, but I'm just very confused on the path I'll take after I graduate. I don’t want to make the wrong decisions. Life is an experience and I know I'll find my footing somewhere, but it's also scary to step out and not know where you're going.

I apologise now for the negative, ranty feel of this first post. I had a lot of thoughts I wanted to channel, tackle, and express to any of you who may stumble across it. I'll try to be more positive in future posts (the blog ones anyway. I can't promise my fiction will be cheerful.) It's been a tough year for everyone, but we all need to keep persevering. And let's just keep in mind that Christmas is around the corner and even if it's different this year, we're still celebrating!

#blog #writer #author #christmas #update #university #creative writing #stress

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dyinglaugh · 4 years ago

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The place I work at is an international company that looks super great on paper and shows the best face to customers and the outside world. In fact, they suck ass. Like a lot. They want to have robots do thier work and such for them but instead have humans that they work like slaves. No, really. I am not exaggerating. If you are unable to complete a shift, you get points/time taken and when you're in the negative you're fired. Sounds reasonable but when you have medical problems or family emergencies you're still penalized and not excused (you have to use time you have to cover any missed shift time). I have medical issues that can be accommodated but the process is such with this company that it makes you just throw your hands up and quit, so I havent tried (the process is convoluted and arduous on purpose to make workers not want to do this). I have stories from friends who also work here that will make youre blood boil.

1: My coworker has a daughter that is now 7-8years old. When she was 4, she had gotten very sick and needed to go to the hospital and stay for a while to get better. My coworker, upon getting that call at work went to management and requested to leave early as this was at the time an emergency. He didn't have time left (idk why) but wanted to be with his 4 year old child to make sure she was OK. When management noticed he had no time available all they said was "you can go but you may be fired for leaving early with not enough time" (paraphrased). He couldn't leave his job there as getting fired meant no money to buy food, pay the hospital, pay bills, etc. So he was then forced to continue working while his child was sick. (She's ok now though.)

2: Another coworker had gotten a frantic call from her daughter that the family dog (that was in my coworkers life before her daughter was even born) had been hit by a car, dragged by the car, and is now fighting for its life to see its owner before it died, needed her home to say goodbye. My coworker, crying/sobbing that her best friend for many years was going to suffer in wait, went to a manager and explained the situation. Upon seeing that my coworker had no time left to leave early, the manager then made her follow him around to talk to other managers to "see what they can do". The dog died in the street, without her human (my coworker) because the managers decided to dawdle and make her walk with them knowing full well what they were doing. At some point my coworker called her daughter to find out that the dog died while she being dragged around the warehouse with a manager who was "looking for a way to help" when in reality all that was accomplished was a waste of time and a life lost.

3: In order to enter the warehouse, you have to go through security and the turnstiles and then get your temp checked by a thermal camera. The second you open the doors to get to the turnstiles, there are 6-7feet tall industrial style fans to cool your skin temp before being checked. So if you have a fever and enter the building, your temp is reduced by these fans enough so that you can continue to work and make the company profit. They said that its to cool the building down but there are literally hundreds of fans everywhere to do that. So why do these ones need to be placed specifically by the doors?

4: We are encouraged to tattle on coworkers when we see a "violation". Such things include sitting anywhere besides the breakdown or lunchroom. We stand for 10.5 hours. The entire fucking shift. And get in trouble for being in pain caused by this. Also, if we need a bathroom break, we have 6 minutes to do that. This includes getting to a bathroom (2mins), doing your business, and then getting back to where you were. Many people have been written up, including myself (lactose intolerant=bad night) for being "off task " for more than 30mins that shift simply by going to the bathroom a few times. Drink less? The warehouse is typically between 75-90 degreesF (winter versus summer) and quite a few people EVERY WEEK pass out due to heat stress or dehydration, so less water isn't an option.

I dont have those types of problems at the moment where a life will be lost or is in trouble and i hope it never happens. I had heard these stories from my coworkers and I suspect that managers get reprimanded for trying to be lax about the more ridiculous rules. I myself am going through the problem of not being able to apply for medical leave. I'm in the negatives with time as I type this because every single person I've been emailing to fix my system issues in the portal to open a case, has blown me off. I dont know why this company treats the workers so shitty, except they are worldwide and literally every single person uses thier services. I won't say the name since id like to not be fired but I will give the hint that its an online store with the same name as a big tropical jungle. I've talked to managers there that i can tell hate the policies that work against the workers (alot of the policies do) and the good managers are frustrated too.

The system designed by the company is basically like this: low-level worker is promoted slightly and given 50%-100% more work than before with promise of a better pay and such and all they have to do is enforce the policies and step on people to do exactly that. They themselves are still being trampled by the higher ups while being promised that they will get bigger boots to stomp on low-level workers the better they work.

I despise this company so much that I tell every single person the horrors the company will do and will cover up in order to deter them from using thier services. I understand that prices found through this company are better than almost every other company so its just cost effective with people. I dont condemn people for using that company at all actually. Just those who, despite knowing the hardships and harsh treatments of the workers, laugh and still use it saying, " if its so bad why not leave?"

I'll tell you why. Because the company pays ok enough and offers ok enough benefits that we the workers feel trapped. If we leave, who will hire people that have very few skills since they spent years in a warehouse? If we leave, how will we find a better or equal paying job ($15-16/hr starting)? I have hunted and searched for such a job because of my frustration and found absolutely nothing. This company traps workers in a way that makes it so impossible to leave that many fall victim to depression or other mental/physical illness.

Speaking of, I have heard in the half year of working there of at least 3 people almost killing themselves- thats right SUICIDE- due to the stress. In response, the company sends out information and messages and notifications about Suicide Awareness and Prevention. AS IF THEY DONT KNOW THAT THEYRE THE CAUSE. I personally have thought, " if I kill myself, the company can leave me alone. I wont have to work here anymore and suffer almost every night through inconceivable pain without hope of going home". See, I have chronic migraines that put me out of commission for 20 out of 30days a month. Not only have I worked while sobbing and not being able to see or breathe (one of many symptoms I have) I've been forced to continue working until my illness has progressed until I can no longer function. I can't move or see or breathe or hear or anything at that point. I can only focus on one thing and its typically forcing myself to CONTINUE WORKING because the company doesn't care enough to let me leave early. I end up having panic attacks in the bathroom and vomiting due to the pain. This company, as far as I've heard through people I've talked to everywhere, hasn't officially killed people. Unofficially, i had talked to someone that had almost overdosed in order to be free of the company.

Now, I dont include names simply because I'm not a rat or snitch or whistle blower or etc. and because I dont want them to get in trouble for speaking out. I am posting this here because hopefully, its anonymous enough that I dont get in trouble either. I just hope that before anyone chooses to use this company (that has the same name as a jungle), they remember this post. I hope that this is spread everywhere so that everyone knows the horrors the workers have to deal with. I hope so much that someone reads this and chooses to spend that extra dollar on a different website to not add to this billionaires' pockets. Please, repost. Spread this around and add stories of your own because you're not alone. I promise.

#horriblejobs #this is ridiculous #truthbomb #wildthatthecompanyisstillexisting #like holy shit #is this even legal #how is this legal #spreadthiseverywhere #bad bosses #no joke #complete truth

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theliberaltony · 5 years ago

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

cwick (Chadwick Matlin, deputy editor): Clare, Kaleigh and Maggie, thanks for joining me to talk about the president’s medicine cabinet. Yesterday, President Trump revealed that he’s taking hydroxychloroquine, an anti-malarial medication, to help prevent him from contracting COVID-19. Trump’s comments were the culmination of his interest in the drug, which he has hyped for months as a way to help fight the pandemic. Let’s talk about what the science says about hydroxychloroquine, what Trump has said about it, and what it says about Trump that he’s taking it.

So, let’s start with the science, which is about the only thing that can ground us in this frenzied moment. Can hydroxychloroquine prevent someone from getting COVID-19?

clare.malone (Clare Malone, senior political writer): (Readers can, on their own time, imagine what else is in the president’s gold-plated medicine cabinet.)

maggie (Maggie Koerth, senior science writer): What we’re basically looking at here is a massive lack of evidence for anything, Chad.

kaleigh (Kaleigh Rogers, science and politics reporter): The results from the few studies that have been done are mixed, at best. Some have found hydroxychloroquine reduced the duration of COVID-19, others have found no difference between using the drug and not, and at least one found there was actually a worse outcome for patients who were on hydroxychloroquine versus those who were not.

maggie: There are ongoing studies of better quality happening — I’m particularly interested in one that’s looking at COVID-19 incidence and outcomes in lupus patients who were already taking hydroxychloroquine for their chronic illness — but we just don’t have evidence to say it does anything.

kaleigh: We do know from past trials of hydroxychloroquine that it can cause abnormal heart rhythms, so the president’s claim that there’s no harm in trying it is not based on evidence. This isn’t like taking vitamin C.

cwick: And are these all studies that test for whether hydroxychloroquine prevents COVID-19? Or are they testing whether it improves treatment of the disease?

kaleigh: Most trials I’ve seen are to treat COVID-19, not to prevent it. (Though there is at least one trial currently testing it out for preventive use.)

cwick: So Trump’s decision to take it preventively complicates things further. We’re in the dearth-iest corner of the dearth of evidence.

maggie: You have the science side of things, which is mostly proceeding as it ought to, and you have the political side, which is full of hype and boom-or-bust demand.

cwick: With that said, Clare, why is Trump doing this? Or maybe the better question: Why is Trump telling us he’s doing it?

clare.malone: On a personal level, Trump is likely taking it because of the recent infections of White House staff and because, well, as we all know, he’s a germaphobe!

But I think it’s a piece of his public response to the outbreak. He attempted, in a quite pitched way at first, to convince the public that things were not as bad as they were made out to be. He promised a non-entity of a disease at first and compared it to the flu. The idea of taking this drug plays into all that, in a more tamped-down way, because he’s offering the public a sort of “cure” or hope. I don’t think it’s a slip of the tongue, but it is a key part of his own thinking about the virus and a key part of how he wants to talk about it in public.

cwick: That’s interesting, Clare. One of the defining characteristics of this disease has been its uncertainty. That’s in part because we haven’t known how to treat those who are sick (let alone make the rest of us immune). Trump seems to be saying: If a medication is good enough to make the president feel safer, it’s good enough to make you feel safer.

maggie: I’m interested, Clare, in whether we’ve seen presidents get so specific in their hope-peddling before. It seems normal for a president to say, “Oh there’s all this research being done and we will have options, let’s fund them.” But it feels to me like Trump has uniquely used the bully pulpit to tout specific products — hydroxychloroquine, that Abbott Laboratories test — when there was more than one option out there. And it’s come back to bite him multiple times. Because when science is moving fast, most of the “good ideas” are going to fail at first. Pinning hope on specific brands and products seems like a real risk he’s taken on.

clare.malone: Right, Chad. The president has gotten A TON of flak for his refusal to wear a mask, but that’s also part of his messaging! It’s certainly odd that he’s taking this drug and not wearing a mask, but he’s a big believer in the sort of traditional displays of “masculine” strength that American politicians have thought the public likes to see. His no-mask thing is the pandemic equivalent of presidential candidates not wearing winter coats while campaigning in Iowa in January.

cwick: This isn’t about promoting promising research, or the latest trial results. He is, in effect, becoming part of the trial himself.

kaleigh: Except it’s not controlled, randomized or blind, so his “trial” is scientifically meaningless. I drink coffee every day and haven’t gotten COVID-19 yet — maybe that’s a prophylactic, too! This is the logic of anecdotal evidence.

maggie: So this reminds me of the study I saw about how men were significantly less likely than women to take non-pharmaceutical preventive measures in a health crisis, like wearing masks, but were more likely than women to take pharmaceutical measures.

kaleigh: His announcement that he’s taking it certainly felt defiant, like he’s doubling down in spite of the evidence. He also spent some time yesterday criticizing a Veterans Affairs study, which found that patients on hydroxychloroquine actually had a higher risk of death.

cwick: Kaleigh, your point about the VA study is super interesting. We’ve seen how the president can dismiss news and findings that run counter to the narrative he wants to promote, and part of his political struggle during this crisis has been knowing when to embrace the science and when to reject it out of hand. By putting his chips in on one drug, the drug itself becomes a cause to rally behind, and news that disputes its power becomes easier for Trump to critique. Essentially, hydroxychloroquine has become part of the White House policy agenda.

clare.malone: Also, if you’ve eschewed a lot of the science in your initial stages of your response, you might as well bet big on a miracle cure, right? Maybe you’ll be right and people will credit with you being early to the party. Americans do love pharmaceutical solutions to their problems.

Shoutout here to former Sen. Bob Dole, the OG American politician-pharmaceuticals spokesman.

kaleigh: It is strange that he got so fixated on this one possible treatment, though. The antiviral drug Remdesivir, by contrast, actually has some promising early results. Why is Trump so interested in hydroxychloroquine? He has scoffed at questions about whether he, say, owns stock in a company that produces the drug, but he also hasn’t provided a lot of explanation about why he’s so fascinated with it.

cwick: Some would have you believe that it might be an issue of cronyism. Here’s the New York Times from April: “Some associates of Mr. Trump’s have financial interests in the issue. Sanofi’s largest shareholders include Fisher Asset Management, the investment company run by Ken Fisher, a major donor to Republicans, including Mr. Trump. A spokesman for Mr. Fisher declined to comment.”

clare.malone: It’s a good question. I’m a bit skeptical of the stock interests answer, since what Trump seems to own is quite negligible. But to Chad’s point, Trump’s personal phone line is always known to be open to friends outside the White House! In the initial stages of the crisis, there’s a sense that he was hesitant to trigger portions of the Defense Production Act because of feedback from the Chamber of Commerce and private industry.

maggie: And meanwhile, his political advocacy has pushed for millions to be spent on it … supplies acquired by the VA and the Strategic National Stockpile.

kaleigh: One thing is clear: When Trump touts a treatment, interest goes up. Not only do Google searches soar, but at least one online prescription service reported a nearly six-fold increase in demand for hydroxychloroquine prescriptions after Trump first mentioned the drug.

maggie: We know there were people from the anti-vaccine movement promoting the so-called ”miracle mineral solution” to him — a pseudoscience “treatment” that basically amounts to industrial bleach — before he spent that one press conference talking about treating yourself with disinfectant.

clare.malone: And we know Trump is susceptible to anti-vaxxers from earlier in his time in public life.

maggie: I can see why the open phone line thing would work in real estate — hot backdoor tips from buddies. But that doesn’t really work in science.

clare.malone: But isn’t it more politics masquerading as science? Which might be the whole problem.

cwick: Right, it seems like we’re all arriving at the same terminus: The president has long demonstrated a contrarian approach to science, so his taking hydroxychloroquine despite iffy science is as much about the political as it is about the personal.

kaleigh: What is the political motivation to fixate on one drug and also continue to tout it against all current evidence?

clare.malone: Momentum. You’ve already been saying it: Why stop saying it?! You’ll just look more fallible.

cwick: Politicians don’t like to be wrong.

maggie: This politician in particular really doesn’t like to be wrong — maybe even more so than others.

clare.malone: It’s the spin zone, y’all! Hop on in. It’s dark, but that’s what it is.

kaleigh: Right, changing your mind based on new and better information is bad in politics, for some reason.

clare.malone: Flip flopping.

cwick: It’s considered bad in broader society, too!

clare.malone: Is it?? That’s actually an interesting question.

cwick: I’d say that I’m reconsidering, but then you’d think I was weak…

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Maggie Koerth #Clare Malone #Chadwick Matlin and K

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star-anise · 6 years ago

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Thank you! My actual question is, what is trauma? Particularly trauma that doesn't stem from a single Traumatic Event (TM) -- like, trauma that comes from years of being treated as a "gifted" child, or from developing a disability slowly and quietly rather than in some big accident, or other non-obvious sources. What is trauma, what does it do to someone, why can two people go through the same shit and one comes out traumatised and the other does not? This is a big and vague question I know.

Yeah, “trauma” as a concept is kind of confusing because people think that to be traumatic, something has to be dramatic. And it doesn’t. In point of fact, when my province did its public messaging campaign for trauma-informed care, they completely replaced the word “trauma” with “toxic stress”.

This is gonna get long. For further reading, I’d suggest looking at the Child Trauma Academy’s Trauma and PTSD Library. And it will sound at the beginning like I’m answering some different question than yours, but I promise, I am.

The root of trauma is in the stress response system. When our body interprets something as a threat, it activates the stress response system; our system floods with adrenaline, heart rate goes up, breathing quickens, the brain diverts energy away from centres of higher thought and into immediate physical motion, your liver releases glucose your digestive system slows down, all that stuff. This is called “arousal” but it means stress arousal, not sexual arousal. And then, after the threat has passed, your body works to return you to normal; it releases cortisol to calm you down, your heart goes back to normal, your digestion goes back to normal, you are calmed and soothed.

The first major cause of stress after birth is being hungry. The stomach hurts; we’re in pain; we become stressed and cry. And ideally, someone will come, pick us up, and feed, rock, soothe, and make noises at us until we stop crying and become calm again. If we receive adequate care--that is, if we experience thousands of repetitions of being alarmed and in pain, having the pain go away, and being soothed--our brain records a basic set point of “most of the time I do not need to be alarmed, but when I am alarmed, it probably won’t be for long and I’ll get what I need to calm down again.”

Our brains don’t differentiate well between physical and emotional pain, between something that happens to us and something that happens to others. What makes a baby scream in hunger is the same basic mechanism as what happens when someone experiences a dramatic trauma.

The really big, important step, is when the body goes back to normal. When you are calmed and soothed. The parasympathetic nervous system kicks in; the body releases cortisol; heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure go back to normal; digestion resumes; higher brain functions go back online.

Trauma is what happens when this doesn’t occur--your body tries to soothe itself, but it isn’t enough to fully work. Maybe the stressor is still present so the stress response keeps happening; maybe there aren’t enough resources to become soothed by. Instead the body is alarmed to the point of exhaustion. An aroused stress response is an incredibly taxing state, sucking down resources at an enormous rate while preventing the generation of new ones. So for an adult this could be a big shock that they can’t get over; for a baby, it could be not being fed, not being soothed, or being in constant pain.

Trauma is, basically, a stress response that wakes up easily and then takes a long time to settle down again after. It’s the brain trying to anticipate a dangerous world where something bad happens and you need to be quick to respond to it, and maybe be prepared for a long siege where you need to maintain that response for quite some time.

It works differently for kids because we actually need a lot of help to cope with stress initially. We spend a long time helpless, unable to walk or talk, completely dependent on a caregiver to eat and handle threats. The repetition of being soothed by a caregiver slowly builds up the neural capacity to deal with threats. We use our sense of connection with other people, and our own mastery over the world, to help deal with with stress. This is why hurt children want to be soothed by their caregiver, specifically, and why that caregiver kissing an injury to make it feel better works. Rejection is painful because on a basic level, our brains associate it with not having the resources to handle pain.

So there are a lot of thing that can either deprive a child of adequate resources to handle stress, or create a stressful stimuli too great to be soothed. Which are kind of the same thing, except: there are harmful or inadequate environments that would be guaranteed to over-stress and fail to soothe a vast number of children; and there are children who become so stressed they require a level of soothing much greater than what would be adequate for most other kids. An almost universally neglectful environment might be infants in an old-fashioned orphanage, where babies are fed on a rigid schedule, rarely held, rocked, or soothed, and not responded to when they cry; those suckers are almost guaranteed to fuck up any infant raised within them. (If it survives.) Meanwhile, a child that is difficult to soothe might for some reason have levels of pain it would require painkillers to take away, or might be distressed by things their caregiver doesn’t know to control, like an autistic child who is distressed by the fabric of their blanket or the electric hum of household equipment, which many neurotypical people would never guess could be distressing.

So some of those predispositions might be genetic, but then they get compounded by early life experience. For example, my nephew was allergic to his infant formula; he screamed way more than your average baby and was much harder to soothe, until his parents and their doctor figured out what was going on. After that, he was a much happier baby. If they hadn’t figured out what was going on, and he’d spent maybe a year being constantly distressed with nothing to soothe it, it probably would have moved his stress response system a little closer to “easily activated and hard to soothe”.

You know how when plastic gets hot, it gets all melty and can be put into a bunch of different shapes? And then when it cools down, you can flex it a little but not reshape it entirely? That’s what is meant when neuroscientists say the brain is plastic. When we’re born, our genetics play a little into the shape that our brains take, but our environment has just as much ability to shape our brains. The brain can be optimized for learning English or learning Chinese, to being happy and easily soothed or for responding to constant, unremitting stress. And as we grow older, the plastic cools off. A lot of your stress response system’s basic set point is decided by the age of 3, and much harder to change thereafter. The window for learning any new language easily and flawlessly closes in elementary school; after that, as we age, it gets harder and harder. The adult brain solidifies, so it can flex but is hard to totally reshape.

Part of childhood trauma is also the failure to learn skills during a critical period for learning them. If a child isn’t exposed to any language by the age of 7, they are deeply unlikely to learn how to speak naturally and fluently later in life. And almost everything that differentiates adulthood from childhood is a learned skill, including staying calm, paying attention, solving problems, making friends, and socializing. They’re like muscles; they have to be used for them to grow from their initial promise, their basic genetic gift, to being large, strong, and capable of doing things.

So the younger you are, you see, the more subtle a trauma can be; the stress response system is so much weaker when we’re young. It is shaped not just by huge things, but little ones: How predictably we’re fed when we cry. Whether the adults around us are grieving or fearful. If we’re allowed to feel safe when we leave the house. If the people we encounter are friendly or hostile. Whether we can reliably meet the standards for being considered “good”. How often we encounter rejection. The hope is that, as you age, you can handle bigger and bigger stresses, because stress response is to some degree a skill; I can handle a skinned knee more easily than my 3-year-old nephew can.

But both genetics and that early life set-point can determine how likely we are to be traumatized anew by later events. If your stress system is already prone to being aroused way before other peoples’, and much slower to calm down, you’re much more likely to both be stressed by new events, and to fail to calm down totally after. The stresses pile up. Your stress response system, bless its little heart, thinks that the response to more stress is MORE VIGILANCE, and it takes a lot of very deliberate work, environmental change, and possibly medication to calm it back down again. (A frequent medication for traumatized children is clonidine, which reduces blood pressure, because it helps reset their bodies to “less stressed”)

And then if our bodies leave us in a state of chronic stress, we can often fail to do the things that help us recover from it later. If a child is constantly stressed and anxious, it may make it harder for them to make friends; then when they’re pushed off the swing at recess while the teacher’s back was turned, they’re less likely to have friends who will notice or react with care, concern, or help. If they feel totally embittered by school as a whole, they may be more likely to drop out, meaning they don’t have the educational qualifications that would give them home, food, and medical care. It can be a really vicious downward spiral.

So:

Trauma from big shit as an adult is essentially the same as trauma from little shit when you’re a kid. To a baby, social isolation equals death, and it takes a long time to learn otherwise.

Two people can experience the same thing and have very different reactions because of combination of genetics and life experiences

One of those differences can be perception of threat, so they are more likely to find something distressing than others

Another can be difficulty with distress tolerance and self-soothing, so they are much less able to return from distress to a feeling of wellbeing and calm.

Adverse early experiences can set you up for a negative downward spiral

Lack of positive shaping experiences as a child can leave you without important skills for health and growth, and those skills can be much harder to learn later in life.

#staranise original #trauma #child neglect tw #child abuse tw #batbetbitbotbut

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pacificwanderer · 6 years ago

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Got any advice for a girl who has 3 younger fanbro brothers who proclaim they will not be watching TROS in theaters? When I told my brothers the title, two of them groaned and said, yuck, seriously? And, my 21 year old brother, who really doesn't care about romance in action movies, always rolls his eyes when I bring up Reylo, and said the trailer reinforced his dislike for the ST actors. I know I shouldn't care what they think, but I do. I keep thinking I have to prove myself as a SW fan.

Hey Nonnie!

This is a really great questions :) I’ve been a fan since I was very young and it was something that I largely enjoyed on my own (family wasn’t much into it, though my aunt did make us watch Space Balls one time, so LOL I’ve got that, I guess?), so my experience will be a little different, but I’ll do my best. NGL, my first impulse was to type out “YOU DON’T OWE SHIT TO NOBODY NOHOW” but that’s not really helpful and, to be honest, it’s really a concept that I learned with age and experience because, for much of my life, I’ve also felt like I had to prove myself or justify my interests to others, esp when someone was choosing to criticize them. Also, this is a pretty common and normal feeling inside of fandom and in life, so you’re definitely not alone :)

It almost felt like it was a judgment on me. Somehow, I was doing something wrong by liking whatever thing I felt I needed to justify, so I needed to explain myself so that they could understand why I liked the thing because I didn’t like to feel like I was doing something wrong by liking it. I didn’t want them to reject me or think less of me because of my interests. But, as I’ve dealt with more of this kind of thing over time, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay for them to not give a shit about the things that I like and that I don’t owe them my time or a justification. I’m not wrong for liking SW just like they’re not really wrong for disliking it. It’s just the way it is in life. And, honestly, once the movie comes around, they might change their tune anyways because I have a feeling it’s going to be epic.

If I like something, it’s right for me because it’s right for me. Doesn’t mean that will be the case for anyone else, but it also doesn’t mean that I have to convert them or bring them over to my POV. The best thing for me was to find people who shared my interests and talk with them about how much I love the thing. For me, that was getting started in online fandom. I was also really lucky to find a group of friends outside of the fandom who are really supportive and patiently listen to my Reylo and Star Wars rants. I’ve also gotten more confident with my likes and interests over time, which really is just me becoming more confident as a person. The older I get, the less I give a shit about what other people say about things that ultimately don’t matter (like fandom). It’s supposed to be fun and I do my best to seek out the people and opportunities that are enjoyable to me :) Again, that’s after a lot of years of feeling lesser than, or like I needed to hide my hobbies, but now I just dgaf lol.

Another thing to remember is that peer pressure and influence from others is a real thing and some people feel the need to fall in line, or hate on things that “everyone” else hates on just because they don’t want to feel like they’re not part of the group (and, boy, is that group loud on the internet, even if they are small). So, it could be that they’re feeling outward pressure to hide their own interests and preferences (not saying that’s definitely the case, but it can be part of the reason). It happened with the PT too, where you get people who aren’t even into SW weighing in on how “terrible” the movies are. Because SW is so ubiquitous, everyone has an opinion on it, so there’s always going to be plenty of conflict in the fandom because not only do you have generations of people growing up and loving different facets of this series, you have people who think that a viable personality trait is hating on Star Wars (it’s not, they’re boring, and I’ve learned to just ignore them and enjoy with part of the fandom that is good for me). It takes a lot of guts to be open with your likes and hobbies and not many people feel comfortable with making themselves vulnerable like that. I know it was a challenge for me growing up because it stings to hear shit like “that fucking sucks,” or “what’s wrong with you [for liking that]” or “Isn’t that a boy thing?” But, again, it’s a reflection on them, not me. Mostly, I think people are jealous that they can’t openly like the things they like because they’re afraid of criticism. Which sucks.

I wish we were more encouraging about interests instead of always making fun of people for being “too excited,” or “childish.” This would would be a more magical place if people could take themselves outside of their own experiences, fears, and insecurities, and realize that we’re all just stumbling along together, trying to get by, on this crazy rock that’s hurtling through space. People also get a lot more traction by talking about what they hate because it gets a rise out of others. Look at youtube or twitter. That shit is toxic as fuck (and this place can be too) with people continually focusing on shit that they say they “hate” but are actually obsessed with (and probably secretly enjoy, which I’m sure pisses them off, hence the overcompensating with hate to PROVE to themselves that they really do hate it--Gee, reminds me of a certain character, to be honest lol).

Also, it’s okay if people don’t like Star Wars or don’t like the new movies or Reylo. It’s fine. As long as they’re not being mean about it. There are plenty of things that I just can’t stand, but I stay out of it lol. And, well, some people are just gonna be jerks about it and that’s a reflection of them and their current state of being. If they enjoy making other people feel shitty about the things that they like, then I imagine their own state of being isn’t that great. Now, with brothers, I’m sure the dynamic is different (I don’t have any brothers, but I grew up around farm boys, so I got some of the dynamic, but living with people makes things a bit more challenging). So it might just be a family thing where you’re getting pushback because you’re a family member. Family sure is like that sometimes.

I’m going to stop myself from going on a rant talking about how Star Wars, while it has action elements, isn’t an action movie and people who have that expectation for the series are always going to be disappointed (it’s a space opera), but it’s also good to remember that some people just don’t understand romance, and maybe they don’t like it. And that’s okay. People are entitled to their own opinions and interests and, as long as they’re not starting fights over it, I’d just move on.

You have every right to enjoy Star Wars just however you see fit. You don’t owe it to anyone else to justify or explain your preferences. Whether you’re deep into it, or just like the aesthetic, or want romance or Reylo, or like the ships, whatever, it’s all valid.

Is there something about SW that you all like that you can share if you’re looking for a way to bridge the gap? I’d avoid topics that you’re never going to agree on, but maybe if you’re looking to have conversations with your bros about SW, talk to them about the things you enjoy that you have in common. Or, if they’re picking at the ST, just ignore the bait. IT’S HARD and I hATE IT because I want to rub people’s faces in how wrong they are, but I also have to take a step back and remind myself that it’s fake and in space lol.

In summary, you never, ever, ever, ever, ever have to justify yourself as a SW fan or with anything else out there. Ever. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that, but with time and practice, it gets easier, I promise. Take it from a chronic over-explainer lol. You are good and valid and wonderful just the way you are and in whatever way you enjoy this series. No matter what anyone else says or implies. Star Wars is for everyone, and anyone that implies otherwise never understood the series to begin with.

AND if you read all this and think it’s shit and you have a better way to deal with it HAHA I’m fine with that. These are my personal experiences and thoughts on the matter, and what’s right for me isn’t going to be right for everyone, nor do we all follow the same path in life :) Hope this helps, at least so you know that you’re not alone and I’m cheering for you!

Take care, Nonnie! And MTFBWY!

#personal #fandom experiences #family angst #asks and answers #anonymous asks #ask pacificwanderer #advice #Anonymous

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biglifequestions-blog · 5 years ago

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Big Life Questions

In 1991, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes; an incurable autoimmune disease that would have killed me were it not for the discovery of a breakthrough treatment some 70 years earlier. Had my great grandmother—who lived to be an octogenarian with four grandchildren and eight great grandchildren—been diagnosed with the same condition, natural selection would have swiftly eliminated her and the potential for offspring as unceremoniously as it had thousands of others. By pure chance, my mother, uncle, cousins, brothers, and I would never have been born. Twelve unique progenies, gone; an entire branch of the family tree stunted and withered at the hands of a few faulty genes.

As luck or God or the Universe would have it, I was born at exactly the right moment in history to not only survive type 1 diabetes but thrive. And here I am today at age 29: a walking, talking, breathing, body with blood circulating and nerves firing, alive with not only conscious thoughts, but also feelings, opinions, beliefs, quirks, aptitudes, and proclivities. From this foundation, I’ve created a full and complicated life that includes accomplishments, hobbies, aspirations, and emotional connections to other walking, talking, breathing bodies. That I am even sitting here now in a 600-square-foot apartment in Philadelphia with a Chihuahua named Peanut napping sweetly in my lap, able to freely express myself through the typed English word using an online platform capable of sharing those words with millions of people around the globe, all while my loving husband cooks his take on vegan enchiladas in our tiny kitchen is nothing short of a holy-shit miracle.

I wish I could say that the mind-blowing awareness of my mere existence—never mind the trillions of complex, improbable events that coalesced to have me adopt a Chihuahua—has compelled me to live each of my 10,500+ days on this earth to their absolute fullest. I wish I could say the knowledge of my finite and delicate reality has inspired me to follow my passions, live authentically, and weather life’s storms with grace and fortitude all while dedicating my time and energy toward the betterment of society. Surely a life as precarious as my own would catalyze an ongoing quest to align mind, body, and spirit; to be a role model for overcoming adversity against all odds.

Alas, I am not quite so enlightened.

Last Saturday, for example, I spent the entire day in worn-out sweatpants eating buttered toast and playing Candy Crush on my iPad. Between waiting for more bread to toast, butter to melt, and lives to reload, I scrolled through the bottomless pit that is the /AmITheAsshole sub on Reddit, grappling with the complexity of human social norms while also getting my daily bump of “my life really isn’t so bad” by contrasting my comparatively insignificant problems to the drama of Internet strangers. By sunset, I had succeeded only in eating a half loaf of bread and irritating my husband by finishing off the butter and bringing crumbs into the bed. (AITA?)

I’m sure you’re wondering how I’m able to justify such a flagrant misuse of my time. While I don’t exactly know the answer to that question, I can hazard a guess it’s because I’ve collected enough insignia of a successful life—academic degrees, a wedding ring, my handsome husband, a Pinterest-inspired apartment, stamps in my passport—that the pressure to fill my days with meaningful, enlightened activities has lessened. So long as I continue showing up to work, paying taxes, saying “I love you,” and periodically posting #humblebrags on Twitter about some new promotion or my latest vacation, what does it matter if I occasionally splurge on procrastination and carbohydrates?

…right?

Until last year, I had only peripherally considered that there might be more to life than just achieving and owning things. From high school honors to senior job titles to a committed relationship, these milestones were my markers of success, happiness, and security. I craved them, worked for them, plotted how I would make them happen, and invested all my energy into proving to the world and myself that I was smart, hard-working, lovable, deserving; often to the detriment of my own physical, mental, financial, and spiritual health.

Moreover, I was actively encouraged to seek more of these achievements: to play an instrument in both orchestra and band, attend academic summer camps, double major in college, study abroad, work late, work weekends, work, work, work. I believed these tangible symbols would unlock the secrets to all the Big Intangibles: happiness, passion, fulfillment, security, joy, peace, gratitude, love. And when those fleeting moments of accomplishment came and went, and the Big Intangibles didn’t instantly manifest, I turned to my old, worn copy of the “Perfect Life Checklist” (which I wrote myself at the age of 10) and chose my next goal to appease the restlessness and disappointment in my heart.

And then, after years of sacrificing sleep and sanity to acquire these tangibles, it all came to a climax in May 2018: I had just graduated from a prestigious university with my master’s degree, was months away from marrying my soulmate, and had just been offered a dream job in a new city. Life was perfect or as perfect as I could have contrived. I awoke in my fiancé’s bed the morning after graduation expecting to feel elated, happy, fulfilled; or at the very least, well-rested and content. It was the first Tuesday in perhaps my entire life that I technically had nothing to do and I felt completely, inexplicably…. empty.

Where was the happiness I was promised; the light at the end of the tunnel I built, brick by brick? I felt a sudden urge to laugh followed by the very real experience of tears.

And then, in response to those tears, a harrowing, gut-wrenching, pass-me-the-wine-no-the-whole-bottle question materialized before me as if posed by some older, wiser, separate self: Who would you be without all these labels, titles, and accomplishments?

Who am I?

The answer that came was enough to make me want to dive under the covers and let the carbon dioxide build up around me.

Before I go any further, I want to recognize that despite living with a chronic illness, the problems and concerns I’m describing here are distinctly privileged-people-problems. I understand and appreciate that my ability to grapple with questions about my identity and personal fulfillment are luxuries only possible because of that privilege. I don’t have to worry about basic necessities like where I’m sleeping tonight or from where my next meal will come. I don’t wake up worrying about whether I might get arrested, mugged, shot at, or bombed if I walk out my front door or if I might be persecuted for my skin color, openly practicing my religion, or loving who I love. That I even have health insurance to afford the medication that keeps me alive is a blessing that I am keenly aware not everyone with my disease has.

Yet it’s precisely this knowledge—that other people who were born into different circumstances must work a hundred times harder and maybe not ever get to the point I find myself at now—that makes answering these Big Life Questions even more important. With all my privilege and so few barriers standing in the way of me living a magnificent, inspirational, blessed life of service and passion, why am I not making every day, hour, and minute count?

I pondered that question again a few months ago when I was asked to give a presentation at an all-employee meeting for work. “All-employee” meaning, of course, the entire company; hundreds of people in-person and remote gathered in one moment to critically judge my outfit, throat-clearing tic, and the way I pronounce “gala”—or at least, that’s what it felt like. A naturally nervous public speaker, I practiced obsessively to minimize the risk of forgetting my own name and spent copious time working through every worst-case scenario. In the shower, on the train, before bed, in my dreams; I worried and rehearsed that speech so many times that my ultimate irrational fear of a light fixture falling from the ceiling and concussing me mid-word could have come to fruition and my lips would have continued mouthing statistics while my hands, of their own accord, gesticulated to slide 5 bullet point 2 at the 20-minute mark exactly as rehearsed.

This exercise was, like many of my endeavors, not borne out of passion and commitment to a good cause, but a calculated attempt to take on another “professional development opportunity” in the hopes that it would indirectly increase the likelihood of my future happiness by one, maybe two, percent. Because more responsibility at work = more money = more success, stability, and therefore infinite happiness, right? The irony of all this calculation is that an activity I expected to yield happiness had the unintended consequences of increasing my stress levels by 1000 percent and costing valuable time with my friends and family.

And tell me, what exactly is the point of investing all this energy and being so completely exhausted if there’s no greater good, higher purpose, or feeling happy and inspired before, during, and after? What’s the point of tackling any endeavor if it’s only going to lead to a buttered toast/social media binge to cover the feelings of emptiness and dissatisfaction?

Until now, I’ve asked but not fully grappled with these Big Life Questions. But I want to. I want to wrestle and spar, analyze and critique until awareness turns into action and potentially transformation. In my short life I’ve had the opportunity to answer some medium life questions whose answers led to amazing, unexpected changes. Questions like, “What more do you have to lose?”, “Would you be willing to relocate?” and “Will you marry me?” I’ve answered and then watched life shift miraculously to accommodate my new conceptualization of what’s possible. And now, I feel myself standing at the edge of another new conceptualization with an ever-present awareness of my own potential, mortality, limitations, limitlessness, and connection to the rest of humanity.

This blog is a chronicle of my attempts to answer and act on life’s biggest questions, including, but not limited to:

Who am I?

What is my greater purpose in life?

How can I find joy in the mundane?

How can I make the most of every day?

How can I be kinder to myself in deed and thought?

How can I honor and love my body?

How can I love unconditionally?

How can I forgive myself and others?

How can I overcome my fears?

How can I have more faith?

How can I live in the present moment more often?

How can I align my career and work with my passions and higher purpose?

How can I be of service to others?

If you decide to follow along, I hope my words can provide some perspective on how to begin answering your own BLQ’s, even if what I’m describing is a case study in what not to do. Consider what follows to be a record of hard lessons learned, a magnifying glass for bad habits, an arena for confronting fears and traumas, a whiteboard for exploring crazy ideas, and with a little luck and determination, a launching pad into the magnificent, inspirational, blessed life of service and passion I hope to live.

#biglifequestions #selfhelp #selflove #newblog #type1diabetes #consciousness #sprirituality #happiness #searchformeaning

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jatamansi-arc · 6 years ago

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okay, so, serious post time like i promised. my stupid metro bus was late or else this probably would have already been out, but i’m going to dump it under a cut since it deals with last night’s drama.

so, firstly: to anyone i offended, i’m sorry i did that, that i was a fucking ass in the process, and that i just wasn’t willing to listen to anyone.

before i go any further, though, i do want to address three really important things:

i don’t watch riverdale or participate in that fandom in any way. like period. at all. i’ve actually been really sick lately (if you didn’t read anything else on my account, i am disabled and wheelchair-using and have serious chronic pain with dislocations, and i’ve been fainting constantly), to the point that i can’t really use the computer. so this has meant that haven’t even been online much, and my context of the situation going on in that fandom or even in the rpc is really limited. like i’m not kidding, it’s really limited. all i know is there is a character named cheryl and she’s gay apparently. i don’t know how, why, or any other details.

therefore, when i wrote my tags explaining my feelings, i was writing them from a pov that is informed based on my seven years in the rpc and as a lesbian with 32 years of lived experience, not what other shit people are coming up with to deny lesbians agency in the media. i’m going to explain my thoughts about that more in a bit, but to put it succinctly? i want to stress that i am not about that life, and that wasn’t coming across because...

there was a lot going on. i was getting a lot of messages that were personally cruel or antisemitic, and those were the ones i chose not to publish. i was being erased as a lesbian because of my own relationships and experiences informing my feelings, and some people were using ablelist language to do that, which makes it hard to listen to what they’re saying even if there’s a point to be had. on top of that, i was also trying to sort through this stupid donation bin i set up over the weekend to help women who have been abused and trafficked while my neighbors leveled insults at me and slid letters under my door. which had me stressed out well before i ever sat down and reblogged anything on tumblr. this meant it was a real bad fucking time to be on tumblr, and i should have just logged off and done something less stressful like be on toreba. but i didn’t do that, and instead i went absolutely full stupid for a bit because i was already in a bad mood. that was on me and i fucking own it.

i know all of that reads like an excuse pile, but i really wanted to just sit down and vomit those three things out real fast before i get into anything else because i feel like they’re important.

that being said, here’s the important bit:

when i was speaking about being personally okay with people in the rpc taking lesbian characters (both implicit and explicit) and writing them with some amount of fluidity (lesbian v. bisexual w/ a strong preference for women) was because i was allowing for nuance that happens during writing that authors oftentimes cannot predict for. that, for example, perhaps someone is writing a muse 1 but perhaps muse 2 that they’ve been in a relationship w/ for a long time shifts their gender identity to trans or nonbinary and muse 1 still loves them, but now feels personally uncomfortable with using the term ‘lesbian’ to describe their sexual identity. so while their canon counterpart is a lesbian, this fanon iteration, given the circumstances of interaction and plot, has shifted from that.

this is something that has happened to me both as someone who has written here, and within my personal life. that was why i said i have been incidentally -- very rarely -- attracted to men.

what i was not saying and absolutely not advocating for, was changing of lesbian sexuality just because the person who wants to write the character has no interest in writing that core component of that character. that is very much essential to their identity and should (frankly, needs) to be honored. lesbian characters shouldn’t be forced into heteronormative relationships simply because of the preference of a mun. just like we need to do away with the killing of lesbians trope that we’ve seen in the 100 and person of interest.

i’m gonna leave it at that for now and hope this makes sense, but don’t think that i don’t have the back of lesbians in fiction or real life. i do. it would be stupid not to, since i am one of y’all. and again, i am sincerely sorry that my point didn’t carry and maybe it’s still not carrying (i hope it is), and that i was a fucking brat yesterday. i was in a bad place and shouldn’t have probably been online to begin with. doesn’t fix what i did, or take it back, but hopefully this is a start.

feel free to point out some shit in this as well if you’d like, but i’m gonna be making dinner here shortly so i may not be able to reply for awhile, unfortunately.

@deathcanary (and i can’t tag @strongwilltm, who wrote a very polite ask refuting me, so if someone could comment and do that for me that would be nice? i told her i would reply to it when i got home and i wanted to cut the post so i just did it this way instead.)

#ooc #tw drama #idk how to tag this so #apology?#help

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meetnombre · 6 years ago

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I promised myself that would keep this blog sfw. That I would fill it full of things that would make many other people happy and to help them escape from the outside world. It was supposed to be my little corner of the web that would be free from real world politics. I guess, today is finally that time where I have to break that promise.

The whole thing started just as Hasbro released the last episode of the first season of My Little Pony. I discovered it all at once when I marathoned through the first season. For 6 months afterwards, I have been following the pony fandom with a passion, but from a distance. Checking out other peoples art, lurking in forums, sending anon messages to other people’s tumblrs. That kind of stuff. (what can I say? To this day, I am still a bit of a social outcast)

It wasnt until one fateful day when I came across a certain someone’s tumblr blog through another person’s livestream. Not gonna mention any names (SilverBlaze! XD), but anyways! It was through this person’s tumblr that I was encouraged very strongly to introduce myself to someone from the fandom for the very first time. What pretty much happened was that I whacked this awesome guy an anonymous donation through his paypal associated with his new tumblr. What immediately happened afterwards was that his OC absolutely freaked out. Maybe I shouldnt have anonymously sent the post: “Here! Have a bag of free money!” as an anon...oh well XP This person helped me to muster the courage to create an online identity that I could use to interact with the fandom a lot better. He drew me my very own pony! (I still remember the livestream, where Silver started drawing “nombre” without a reference…remember the “meet nombre” image that used to be at the top of my tumblr? That was a modified screenshot of what Silver actually drew for me XD. He then scribbled it out, and began drawing my very own nombre! He asked me if I wanted nombre to be a boy or a girl, as he already started to draw long eyelashes for nombre. I was like “Nombre is a boy! NOMBRE IS A BOY!”, and he quickly removed the eyelashes after that X) ). I eventually took my brand new oc, created my very own tumblr…but then decided to wait until a better time to reveal my tumblr, as I kind of accidentally got Heart Lift, Sparks, and Toast Lift to swap bodies on purpose XP

But yeah! Finally went public with my tumblr, and eventually met someone else (Kappa! XP). I visited quite a few of her livestreams (when silver wasnt streaming, obviously XP), and we just…talked. We caught up with each other so much…we really gotta catch up with each other some more. But what happenned eventually was that Kappa invited me to a group chat where Silver and so many other awesome people got to hang out with each other. I met so many idols of my time and so many new faces, all of which soon became mutual friends. I literally felt like one of the richest people on the planet. I even met someone (Andie!), who soon became my girlfriend!

I still remember bits and pieces of the first group voice chat that I had with this group. One of the guys first impressions was “Is this guy serious?” (Kaipo XP), and “I’m more concerned that this guy works with live explosives for a living” (Rainboom XD)

It didnt last forever. Nothing lasts forever. One of my close friends from that group was forced to leave because he kept on getting anonymous hate from someone else. He didnt know who it was, so he was about at that stage where he was going to shut himself off from ‘everyone’. Good job anon! Good job! *slow clap*

I remember very well the time when that group that helped me with my depression got themselves a new certain member. Things were all good for a while…until that certain member made a techno remix, and asked the group as to what they thought of it. The problem was the title that he chose for it, as it was completely unrelated to the music itself, completely unnecessary, and pretty offensive to a lot of people (I’m pretty sure it was something like “Retarded Austistics” or “Autistic Retards” or something simular…..yeah…). That person was eventually removed from the group, but there was a bit of mayhem in the process, as ‘every single member of the group had moderator powers’. The incident served as a wakeup call to the group, so what happenned was that everyone was disbanded from the old group, and a new group was established…

…but here’s the thing. Not everyone was allowed into the new group. There was one person, who apparently the slim majority at the time decided that they didnt want in the new group. A lot of dramas happened since this event, but this particular separation in my opinion was a pretty big deal, as she was kind of a big part of the group at the time, and a big part of my life.

So! The one big group of people who meant so much to me ended up splitting into 2 separate groups. I stayed silent about the whole thing since then, hoping that someday maybe everyone will let bygones be bygones, because we were all friends once. Instead the opposite happened. Years later, a lot of people started forgetting each other. I could have been more proactive at the time to try and preserve what we all had, but I was worried about hurting someone in the process. I didnt know what to do.

My girlfriend broke up with me, and it was pretty much my fault. After being together for 3 months, she approached me and said that she needed some time apart...and I absolutely flipped my shit. I ended up saying a ‘lot’ of stupid shit that sent her into an absolute chronic panic attack. This drove her to the point where she told me straight up that I was no different from any of the other horrible people in her life. I felt like a real asshole when she said that. I said a lot of things that I shouldnt have said that day.

I was very fortunate to still have her as a friend after all of that. ‘Very’ fortunate.

It was about 3 months after this however that she decided to close her tumblr and delete her skype. She told me that she found happiness outside of this world that she built up. Over 2 years passed since she sent me that post, 2 years that she went missing. That’s long enough to legally declare anyone dead (not kidding either. After all of the low’s that she had been through, my mind was really starting to wonder into some pretty dark places as to what might have happened to her. I was so scared). But everything was okay! I actually got a message from her after all of those years from her telling me that she was doing very well and has settled down with someone else.

All I wanted was the best for her and for her to be happy. Nothing has changed. Even if is with someone else, I dont care. She ‘is’ happy, and she ‘is’ doing what is best for her, and thats all that matters. Hell, I’d approach this guy and shake his hand if it wasn’t for the fact that it would probably make things awkward for everyone XD

But as for me, I’m stuck. I dont really know what to do with myself anymore. When you give someone your heart and things dont work out, most people would get over it. Most people would have found a rebound relationship right now or something, but I guess I’m just not like most people. It’s not just because of my past, but its also because of my toxic present and future. I work in a workplace that can be pretty toxic at times. It’s like, you go back to work after your rostered days off to be meeted by ‘many’ old fashioned people who ask you inappropriate questions like “Hey Nombre! Did you get a root on break?” or “Hey Nombre! You should go get a hooker! You might like it!” over and over because they think its funny to do so, it just puts me off so much. I’m fine as I am! I dont mind being single, even if its for the rest of my life...but there are a lot of people out there who think its okay to treat other people like shit because they are ‘different’, when in reality, my workplace is full of old dirty perverts.

Meanwhile, I’m hardly ever online anymore. Every time I do manage to return to eavesdrop on everyone, it feels like everyone is just becoming more and more isolated from each other. I saw a post on ‘that’ group from someone who said that they wondered what I was up to, to which someone else replied that I pretty much only use tumblr now...and that really hurt me a lot. I cant blame them for thinking that way though, given that I hardly appear anymore. I deserved that.

Every time I look into my tumblrs past posts, I always have dramas. This was supposed to be a place of fun, but because the peak of my tumblr career involved the misadventures between myself and my ex and a certain red horse, looking back always brings up a lot of repressed memories.

I dont want to quit tumblr. But at the same time, I dont want to keep going. I dont know what to do. I really wish that things could have been like they were back in the first quarter of 2013. I liked that.

Over 5 years since then, and I dont know how to move on. I really dont.

#vent #Wall of text #I'm sorry

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apostatesurana · 3 years ago

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hi, please do feel free to ignore this ask if it’s a bit too personal, but I’ve seen some posts/tags from you discussing chronic illness and specialists. I am having my first specialist appointment with a rheumatologist for symptoms that i’ve been having for a long time (referred by primary) and i am very nervous about not being taken seriously (especially as i am on the spectrum and have depression/anxiety). do you happen to have any tips or advice? again please ignore this if it’s too much and i hope you have a lovely day/night!

hello! no worries about it being too personal, i’m more than willing to discuss my health issues at length 😂 (especially if it helps someone else in some way) however, i will try to be vague bc people just scrolling their dash may not want to know. i’m also on mobile, so sorry if the formatting is weird;;

i also want to make a full disclosure up front: i’m currently undiagnosed, fumbling my way through this, and have only been taken seriously within the past year. but we’re in the same boat with being on the spectrum and having depression/anxiety, so hopefully i have something that helps!

- write down a list of your symptoms, with the ones that effect you the most at the top of the list. you can also write down questions you have or anything you want to make sure you specifically address during the appointment.

so, for example, i had an appointment with my gi specialist on thursday and i’m still considered an anomalous case by his standards, but we’re trying a medication to see if that helps at all with my gi symptoms. i have my annual physical at the end of the month with my primary and i’m going to bring a list of things i want to address: my list of symptoms, everything my gi specialist said/what we’re doing, some questions i have regarding my past six years of bloodwork (despite being told i’m “normal”, i have been routinely outside of normal ranges in specific types of tests), and (funnily enough) i’m going to ask for a referral for a rheumatologist (i’ve accidentally scared the shit out of my coworkers a couple of times within the past few weeks from things i thought were normal things joints do which apparently aren’t normal and they made me promise to bring it up 😅) and possibly a cardiologist (based on my previous history, some very specific current symptoms, and two separate people bringing up the possibility of a specific syndrome)

i started this one because every time i’d walk out of a doctor’s office, i’d realize that i’d forgotten to either talk about a symptom or objective bc i struggle a lot with remembering everything in the pressure of that kind of environment and having it written out helps.

- speaking of environment, the appointment may be fast/hurried. it may differ from doctor to doctor though. my gi specialist is in the room with me for five minutes at most, while my surgeon (who has a similar amount of patients) takes his time and talks everything through - my surgeon was the one who realized something important last year and that realization now affects the way me and all of my doctors now address some of my symptoms. ultimately, i think it just depends on how they run their practice.

- you can also bring someone you trust with you to the appointment, whether it’s because you want them to help in some way (like making sure you don’t forget something) or even just for moral support. sometimes office staff may push back and ask if it’s absolutely necessary and you can say yes, it is absolutely necessary. they shouldn’t turn someone who’s with you away.

- i’ve found that if you say you researched something on the internet (whether that’s a syndrome/treatment/anything), it’s almost always met with skepticism to the point of not believing. if you have something you want to bring up that you’ve researched online, i’ve found that bringing it up more in a “when i talked to my friend/acquaintance/coworker who was in a similar situation, they said this thing helped them - maybe we can find something similar that helps me?” tends to be taken more seriously.

(if you want and if it helps, you can totally namedrop me as your friend who told you 😂)

- honestly the biggest piece of advice is: please don’t be like me and accept that you’re “normal” if the tests they run come back in normal ranges. this isn’t to scare or intimidate you, but my cautionary tale is that i started developing all of my symptoms around early-2010s at the earliest, 2016 at the latest. i repeatedly got told i was fine, nothing was wrong, so i ignored quite literally everything my body told me - which, in 2021, landed me in the hospital for a week because i had to have an emergency major surgery because i didn’t realize something (unrelated to my chronic issues) was wrong between my high pain tolerance due to having chronic pain and ignoring all of my discomfort and all of my symptoms.

the thing i want to stress the most as someone who was gaslit by the health system for so long: if you’re experiencing symptoms on a regular basis (whether that’s daily, weekly, monthly - if it happens repeatedly and the symptoms themselves are consistent), there’s something wrong and you’re not crazy. please listen to your body. obviously i’m not sure what you’re experiencing, but if you’re in pain, if you’re dizzy, if you tell someone who is healthy something and they say that’s not normal, what you’re experiencing is not normal. Your primary doctor has referred you out for a reason - they are taking you seriously and know that you need a specialist’s help. doctors practice medicine - they are not all-knowing. if someone doesn’t take you seriously, you can ask your primary doctor for another referral and get a second, third, fourth opinion, until you find someone who does take you seriously.

i’m absolutely sure i’m forgetting some kind of tip, but if i remember anything else, i’ll make sure to reblog this with new information. i’ll also try to find some of the articles i’ve found helpful and reblog with those links. i hope i helped a little and that i didn’t scare you 😅

unfortunately, health issues can be a hard thing emotionally and in terms of money and time - my askbox is always open for you to rant, rave, or ask for more advice. i can also give you my discord information if you want it to discuss things more in depth, but if you’d prefer to stay anonymous that’s fine too! i hope you have a lovely day/night as well 💕

#ask

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elodieunderglass · 7 years ago

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(in reference to this post, in which I suggested that combining anti-fascist activism with self-care is generally a good thing.)

Imagine being this angry about the idea that useful activism might include disabled, sick, pregnant, immunocompromised, housebound and frail people. Imagine being this angry that I’m not telling my followers, who include a high proportion of minor children, chronically ill folks and people of color, that the only way to fight fascism is to literally punch grown-ass Nazis in the face. Imagine trying to punish someone for being supportive of people who are tired, and for suggesting that there are constructive ways to fight fascism when you are tired.

I can actually imagine this, because I’ve been wildly angry before in my life, not caring who I hurt or why, so I know that this happens when you are lost. These are the words of someone who is lost and alone in the dark.

When you write things online, sometimes people get mad at them for absolutely bizarre reasons. As a writer, sometimes you just put some words together and they strike sparks in someone's brain, so they want to punish you for it. This is nothing to do with the words. Anonymous didn’t actually read my words, or understand them. My words just struck a few sparks in their brain and they went haywire, and they were lost, so they tried to hurt me.

Now, no good comes of arguing with someone whose brain has just gone “ping” and started smoking like this. They skimmed the words I wrote and felt bad about them, so they created a fictional construct of my words in their own heads to argue with, so they could feel right and they could feel better. You can’t argue with someone who is furiously arguing with a fictional construct, trying to drag others into their gaslit pocket universe where it all makes sense. But you can still use these messages for an educational purpose.

So, I’m showcasing these messages for a few reasons:

This is how much some people hate the idea of accessible activism. I think it’s good for abled people to see this, because it may surprise them.

Some people internalize these sentiments - these are the exact flavor of dark thoughts that run through your mind when you’re a little bit lost - so it’s good to debunk them, because it can help people be found.

Anonymous made up a fictional construct to argue with, so they didn’t have to sit with the reality of the words I’d written. Because my words hurt them somehow (we may never know why, or how - it’s probably deeply personal) they had to make up a fake world so that they could center themselves as the innocent victim. This contortion forms part of soil that fascism thrives in. This belief that you can deny facts, science, ethics, the humanity of minorities, the fundamental rights of people, or in this case the actual words in front of your face - simply because they made you feel kinda bad, so therefore they shouldn't exist. This belief that it's better to construct a fake world than to sit with the discomfort of the real one. The belief that you can live in the post-facts world because it feels nicer. Post-truth politics, kids; that's where were at, and this is how we got here, step by step. As soon as you get people believing the first step, you can get them to believe anything.

Anonymous says that “[promoting self-care in activism] is why fascism will rise”. That is incorrect on every level. Fascism has already risen. It is already here. And it is not here because of diversity in activism. It is here because the cultural conditions in the West are encouraging it. Like I said in my previous post - fascism is gaining power because of social inequality; because people are tired, frightened, broke and vulnerable, and are looking for others to blame. Fascism deliberately offers hope and security to these people, by pointing to the disorder and diversity of this world, frightening them about it, blaming it on others, and promising that the cleanest/best/whitest/richest people can get to a better ordered world if they take action now. “The only thing holding us back from this stable perfect world...” (says fascism) “is all these disorderly people... who will need to be cleaned up first.”

Now, Anonymous appears to think that the correct way to fight fascism is to look for others to blame, and to blame tired people for being tired; in fact, blaming the downtrodden for their oppression, and suggesting that the work would be done already, if we minorities weren’t wasting time being oppressed, and by occasionally being kind to one another. I think Anonymous is very, very lost. But I know that some people believe this too. I think that if you compare this train of thought to point 4, and look at history, that you will find that this actually is an ugly facet of how fascism takes root.

Now, finally, because I know that some of my followers will find Anonymous’s words to be scary and hurtful, and will ask me about them: don’t worry. I know who you guys are. Some of my followers can’t even make a fist with their hands. Some can’t leave their houses, let alone get to a populated area where they can hunt down skinheads and punch them in the face. Some of my followers are precious young children (sorry pups, you are my actual babies, I don’t make the rules) and I desperately want to watch them grow up. Y’all don’t have to punch skinheads to impress me, or to get Performative Points from Anonymous here. I know that your intrusive thoughts often sound a lot like Anonymous, and look how wrong they are - they are so wrong!

This is for you guys: It is far more valuable that you are alive, that you are trying, that you are building a better world with whatever tools are accessible to you. That will never change. I will never tell you otherwise. You guys are doing your best. You are the People, you are the Reason, you are the Point. You’re the ones we are all fighting for. You don’t always have to fight every battle, physically, by yourselves; you are also allowed to be the protected, the innocent, the vulnerable, the tired, while the rest of us fight for you. And when you do fight, it is good fighting. You are so good at fighting. I am so proud of you, and I am so glad you are at my side.

#The Discourse #long post #Long post warning #cw: politics #accessibility #activism #they didn't do their best and I don't respect that

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